


The Trials and Tribulations of the Watermelon Werewolf

by BlueSimplicity



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, And Lysol, And yes Bucky has a cat, As many MCU cameos as I could fit, Bucky is an oblivious idiot, Firefighters, Fluff and Crack, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Jokes about bunnies, M/M, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Minor Jane Foster/Thor, Minor Riley/Sam Wilson, Naked People, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Really bad at it, SO MUCH SILLINESS, Sam thinks Steve is sad, Slow Burn, So many naked people, Soulmates, Steve is just so bad at this whole courting your mate thing, The Avengers aren't the Avengers, They're werewolves instead, Werewolves, Werewolves but not A/B/O
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:41:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 48,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29726394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueSimplicity/pseuds/BlueSimplicity
Summary: It’s not easy being a werewolf, but Steve Rogers knows he’s lucky. Lehigh's doing well under his care, the humans and werewolves thriving. He doesn't have a mate, but a bonding like that is rare, and with all the members of his Pack already mated, he knows it’s not going to happen for him.Until the day it does, the realization literally knocking him on his ass.That’s fine; he can deal. He’s an alpha after all, and while there are rules to courting when one’s mate is human, he knows he can prove his worth. Except no one told him how hard it would be. And Steve is really bad at this. Really, REALLY bad.After a couple of rough years, Bucky Barnes is back on his feet and ready to start a new phase of his life. He’s been given a second chance and while Lehigh might not be as big as NYC, he loves his apartment, chonk of a cat, new job and crazy neighbors.Except things have started to get weird. Maybe it’s because of all the werewolves in town, although he’s never had a problem before. Yet he can’t help but notice things have changed, with people staring at him wherever he goes, asking him strange questions, and stealing his lunch.And it all started when a watermelon was left on his doorstep.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes & Gabe Jones, James "Bucky" Barnes & Peter Parker, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 737
Kudos: 370





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Steps out from behind her bush and waves**
> 
> This story was written because I absolutely love the soulmate trope, and with everything going on in the world right now, I wanted to write something silly and fluffy. Since this is me, it’s another long one, with a super slow burn, which is what I tend to write, especially when it comes to Steve and Bucky. While it is definitely a crack fic, it ended up touching on certain things I know I’m struggling to deal with right now. So there’s bits about casual touches and snuggling, jokes about Lysol, and sometimes feeling lost as you attempt to find your way, but it’s all done in the spirit of fun. If you’ve read any of my other stories, you’ll definitely see some familiar themes, and if this is the first fic of mine you’re giving a try, then welcome. Either way, I hope you enjoy it. I had a lot of fun writing The Trials and Tribulations of the Watermelon Werewolf, and hopefully you’ll have just as much fun reading it.
> 
> The story is unbetaed, so all mistakes are my own. But it is complete at this point, and I will be posting a new chapter twice a week, on Tuesdays and Fridays, maybe more, depending on my mood. Comments, kudos and shares are always appreciated, but PLEASE NOTE, I am NOT looking for any concrit or negative feedback at this time. 
> 
> Right then. With that out of the way, let’s get on with it, shall we? 
> 
> 😊😊😊

So this was weird.

Then again, almost everything about Lehigh was weird.

Not in a bad way, and after two months of living there, Bucky was getting used to it. His one-bedroom apartment might be considered small by some, but it was clean and warm, with large windows in every room that let in plenty of light, and bigger than anyplace he lived growing up. It was located on the second floor of an older, but neatly tended building, and came with a compact balcony where he could sit and eat his breakfast in the mornings, or read for a little while every evening. He liked his neighbors well enough, even the kid who lived with his aunt in the unit at the other end of the hall, and while the circumstances of him obtaining the apartment were bittersweet, to his pleasant surprise it quickly came to feel like home, and he loved it there.

He even liked his job at the hospital. Lehigh General was not the busiest or most chaotic of places he ever worked, but Dr. Cho and Dr. Banner _-but-please-call-me-Bruce_ were great and appreciative of his skills, unlike plenty of surgeons he’d assisted in the past. After reviewing his CV and three very in-depth interviews, they quickly offered him a position and appeared to be doing their best to make him feel as if he was not just an employee, but a welcome addition to the staff. Aside from one brief discussion asking if they needed to make any accommodations for him to do his job, and a second over lunch a few weeks ago with Bruce, no one ever commented on the fact he had a metal arm, advanced as it was. Other than that, the only thing that seemed to matter was his job performance.

Bucky knew he was a damned good surgical nurse, and he loved his chosen profession. He loved it even more now he was working with Bruce and Dr. Cho, two of the most brilliant and capable surgeons he’d ever assisted. Warm, welcoming and inherently kind, they made him feel like he was part of a team, something he desperately missed.

But then again, that was all of Lehigh. Warm, welcoming and inherently kind. Located on the outskirts of the Adirondack forest in upstate New York, with a population just above five thousand, it was not the most urban of places Bucky ever lived. Yet it was a diverse town, open-minded and accepting of any who decided to settle there. Granted, there were certain unspoken rules written into the fabric of the culture one had to follow if they wanted to live there, but they were not oppressive, demanding or invasive. In fact, quite the opposite. Cruelty, violence and prejudice were not tolerated in Lehigh; its citizens prided themselves on their kindness, generosity, and willingness to always help someone in need, opting for education instead of punishment and assistance for anyone who might be struggling. Self-contained and self-supporting, it was unlike anyplace Bucky ever experienced before, a testament to what could be accomplished when the ones in control cared about those they were sworn to take care of.

But that was probably because of all the werewolves who lived there.

That was where the weirdness kicked in.

Lehigh was certainly not unique in the fact it was a town run by werewolves. There was usually at least one in most states across America. And werewolves had always existed side by side with humans. But for the longest time, in typical human fashion, they had been hunted, feared, deemed savage, violent, and _other_ by those in power, forced to live in secret. Thankfully that changed over the past fifty years, with laws enacted and educational campaigns initiated in schools and on television. To a certain extent, werewolves were romanticized now, but Bucky could remember his history lessons from grade school, and the stories his mother told him, of how they were once persecuted, forcefully conscripted to serve in the military, brutally experimented on and tortured all in the name of science. He’d had nightmares for weeks as a child when he learned that, and it was why he made sure to include a specialization in werewolf biology when completing his master’s in nursing. It was also why places like Lehigh existed now.

Founded in the forties by Margaret Carter, a were herself who served valiantly in World War Two, Lehigh originated as a small town where werewolves and those who loved them could find sanctuary, live without fear of discovery and all that entailed. A brave and brilliant woman, she spent her life laying the groundwork for a community where acceptance, safety and respect were the foundations upon which everything else was built.

But unlike the other enclaves and small towns werewolves clustered to protect themselves, Margaret decided to extend that acceptance, safety and respect to any others in need.

It was why, for as relatively small as it was, Lehigh was a mecca of diversity, and anyone, no matter their species, race, religion, sexuality or gender identity was welcome there. Werewolves understood prejudice and persecution, and saw no reason why others had to experience what they also endured, and if anybody could create a place centered around healing and safety, it was them.

While known for being unbelievably strong, powerful and virile, which led to the majority of misconceptions about them, if there was one thing history tried to erase, and the wider world recently began to rediscover, it was how devoted werewolves were to their packs. Pack was family, and almost nothing meant more to them than their families. Just like with wolves, a lone werewolf never did as well on their own. They could survive, and had in the past out of necessity, but they were never as happy or healthy as they were when surrounded by, could run with, others of their kind. From what Bucky understood, a pack, especially a pack with a good Alpha, meant safety, security, love. He knew that wasn’t always the case; there were asshole alphas out there, as well as dysfunctional packs, but there were assholes everywhere. Just because someone was a werewolf didn’t mean they couldn’t also be a dick. But from his limited experience that was the exception and not the rule. A good pack, a strong pack, lived and breathed their love for one another, and to their devotion to their Alpha, and their Alpha’s devotion to them.

According to what everyone told him, and he’d seen so far, Lehigh had a very good Alpha. A very, very, _very_ good Alpha the entire town adored. Bucky had not met him yet, and as long as he kept to himself and lived his life quietly, he did not expect that to change. Supposedly chosen by Margaret Carter herself as her successor ten years ago just before her death, he continued to foster the ideals Lehigh was built upon, expanding its social outreach programs and making sure all its residents had what they needed, which Bucky respected and wholeheartedly agreed with.

It still didn’t mean living in Lehigh did not take a bit of getting used to.

While werewolves made up only twenty-five percent of the general population, in Lehigh it was more of a sixty/forty split, with werewolves being in the majority. Which was fine; Bucky could honestly not care less, and it definitely came with advantages. Werewolves had super fast metabolisms, which meant they needed to eat a lot. As a result, Lehigh had a plethora of restaurants, open at all hours. Combined with its philosophy of welcome and acceptance, it also meant he could find cuisines from all over the world, anything he could possibly be in the mood for; blinis from Russia, chilaquiles from Mexico, Ethiopian tibs, and Venezuelan pabellon criollo that was to die for. The crime rate was practically nonexistent, and no one was denied medical care, no matter their financial status. The town’s elderly population was respected and supported, with outreach and volunteer programs to ensure they were looked after.

But living with werewolves meant living with werewolves, and that brought with it certain things Bucky never needed to take into consideration before.

Perfumes, colognes, aftershaves, shampoos, laundry detergent and anything with an artificial scent was heavily frowned upon, since strong smells irritated a werewolf’s nose. Bucky couldn’t even find lemon-scented dishwashing soap in the supermarket.

It was also not uncommon to encounter a two-hundred-pound wolf walking down the street whenever Bucky was out doing his weekly shopping or running an errand. Or to see one lying on their side in a patch of sunlight in the park whenever he had the time and stepped outside for lunch.

There was also the howling late at night, especially during the three nights of the full moon. Unlike the myths claimed, werewolves were not slaves to the moon, nor did they have to shift when she was high in the sky; in fact those who lived in cities often didn’t. But that didn’t mean they didn’t enjoy it, and since Lehigh was their home, every full moon they came together to do whatever it was werewolves did when they were in their second shape and howl at the moon.

Very loudly.

And whenever else they damned well felt like it.

It was so loud Bucky could hear it in his bedroom even with the windows closed. Thankfully, the local pharmacy had a healthy supply of earplugs. Bucky was on his third pair.

Then there were all the naked people.

Werewolves had a very different sense of modesty than humans did. They weren’t nudists, per se, but since they needed to disrobe before shifting and running with their pack, they were much more comfortable with the naked body. Sometimes where they started off as wolves wasn’t where they finished. Other times they shifted simply because they felt like it. But just because their wolves wanted to stretch their legs did not mean their clothes followed, and it was not uncommon to see a completely nude person where a huge wolf had just been.

“Yeah, that happens,” Bruce told him when they exited the café Bruce insisted on taking him for lunch and there was a striking red-headed woman walking down the street, naked as the day she was born. Bucky had been so surprised he almost dropped his sandwich.

“A lot?” he managed to ask once he stopped wheezing.

“Not often, but it’s not uncommon,” Bruce continued to explain. “Usually it’s the younger ones, who haven’t gotten their shifting under control yet, but you’ll see plenty of it on mornings after the full moon.”

“And what are we supposed to do about it?”

“Nothing,” Bruce merely shrugged, as if he saw naked people walking down the street every day. “It’s considered rude to stare, but it’s also considered rude to look away. Just talk to them like you would anyone else.”

“But they’re naked!” Bucky felt it necessary to state the obvious.

“Yeah well, so are you underneath all your clothes.” Seeing the look on Bucky’s face, Bruce gently patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

Bucky didn’t know about that; he was far from a prude, and his mother made sure to instill a sense of body positivity in both him and his sister Rebecca. He also worked in the medical profession and was familiar with all aspects of the human body. But there was a big difference in thinking the human body was beautiful and seeing naked people just casually taking a stroll. Bucky nearly choked on his own spit the day he saw the naked teenager streaking down the street. And there was not enough bleach in the world to erase from his brain the memory of the morning he decided to try Sunday brunch at a local diner, and just as he was about to taste his first forkful of pancake, a woman who would have given a raisin a run for their money in the wrinkles department strode proudly by the window, her head held higher than any queen’s.

There were just some things a person did not need to see before breakfast.

Thankfully the citizens of Lehigh adapted, and just about every establishment had a drop box by the front door containing clothes, usually sweatpants, t-shirts and hoodies, a were caught unprepared could grab and slip into if they were so inclined.

But that was a big if. A big, fat, fucking _if_.

Still, late night howling and random naked people on the street aside, the positives of living in Lehigh definitely outweighed the negatives. Yes, it was a weird place, requiring some adjustments on his part, but Bucky could handle some weird. And there was something about Lehigh that resonated within him, whispered to him, telling Bucky this was where he belonged, his home and where he was meant to be.

But this was weird even for the weirdness of Lehigh.

Because sometime between Bucky going to bed after being called back to work to assist with an emergency surgery and then waking up, feeding Vimes and getting ready for his morning run, someone had left a watermelon directly outside his apartment door. No note, no explanation. Just a perfectly round watermelon.

With a huge red, white and blue ribbon on it.


	2. Chapter 2

“You did what now?” Sam asked, while Clint continued to cackle from where he’d collapsed on the couch in the corner of the communal eating area in their firehouse.

He hadn’t stopped, not even to catch his breath, not once, in the past five minutes.

“You heard me,” Steve muttered, his own face pressed against the table to hide his blush.

“No, no, I don’t think I did.” Sam wasn’t even trying to conceal the amusement in his voice. “I think you’re going to have to tell us again.”

“I know _I_ definitely want to hear it again.” Neither was Natasha.

“Ugh.” Steve thumped his forehead against the table one more time, just for good measure.

“He…he…” was all Clint was able to wheeze before he started cackling again. Or was it _hee-hee?_ Steve couldn’t tell.

“Some friends you are,” Steve grumbled under his breath. Seriously, they weren’t just his pack, but his _Pack_ , the ones he was closest to out of everybody else. They knew him being not just an alpha, but the _Alpha_ of Lehigh, its caretaker and protector, came with a lot of responsibilities and concerns. Shouldn’t they at least be offering their encouragement and support, instead of laughing at him?

“I do not understand,” Thor said from his seat at the other end of the table. “This is a good thing, is it not? A truly rare occurrence and we have all been hoping this would happen for him. Shouldn’t we be celebrating?”

“Yes. That.” Steve didn’t bother raising his head, waving his hand in Thor’s general direction.

“Oh no, we definitely are,” Sam assured Thor, although Steve was having a hard time believing it. “It’s just –“

_“He gave him a watermelon!”_ Clint squealed, before bursting into his hundredth round of giggles.

“I panicked, OK!” Steve snarled, finally lifting his head from the table. None of his Pack took his tone seriously.

“A watermelon.” Deserts were dryer than the tone in Natasha’s voice.

“Did you even tell him why you were giving him a watermelon?” Sam wanted to know.

“No,” Steve mumbled.

“So you just what? Handed him a watermelon and walked away?” Sam persisted.

“No,” Steve felt his shoulders begin to involuntarily climb towards his ears.

“Then how did you give it to him?” Steve was really starting to hate Sam and all his stupid questions.

“I didn’t.”

“Then what exactly happened?” Steve was also really starting to hate Natasha too.

“Steve?” Sam pressed when Steve didn’t answer. “What did you do, Steve?”

“ _Ilmphhmphonhishmmhmm.”_

“What was that Steve?” Sam demanded.

“You heard me.” Instead of meeting his gaze, Steve focused his attention on a scratch on the tabletop.

“No, no, I don’t think I did,” Sam shook his head.

Steve sighed. They were never going to let him live this down. “I said, I left it on his doorstep.”

“You left it on his doorstep,” Sam repeated flatly.

“Yeah,” Steve sighed again.

“Did you even leave a note? Let him know why there was a watermelon on his doorstep?” Steve did not care if Sam was his best friend in the entire world; he really needed to shut up.

“I put a ribbon on it.”

“You put a ribbon on it?” Sam asked, just as Clint started laughing so hard Steve was seriously worried he was going to choke.

“What color ribbon?” Thor wanted to know.

“Red, white and blue.” His response was met by four sets of eyes staring blankly at him. “It was the biggest one in the store, and I don’t know what his favorite color is yet, and I _panicked,_ OK?”

And that was when everybody, not just Clint, started laughing at him. Steve was really going to have to start looking for new friends.

***

It was supposed to be a blessing, a miracle, a gift. And a rare one at that. For all that humans liked to romanticize the idea of werewolves and their mates, it seldom happened in truth. His Pack was lucky. Sam had found Riley, Natasha and Clint had each other, and the smiles that bloomed across Thor’s face whenever anyone mentioned Jane were brighter than a lightning strike. It meant his Pack was strong, stable, happy and healthy, and as their _Alpha_ almost nothing made him happier than seeing them all together.

But a mate, a _True Mate_ was still a rare occurrence, and Steve knew the odds were against him, especially with so many in his Pack already bonded. And that was fine. Weres fell in love and formed deep, lasting relationships all the time. He was still young, especially for a werewolf, and while he hadn’t fallen in that type of love with anyone yet, he had faith he eventually would. What he hadn’t expected, hadn’t dared to presume would happen for him, was the awareness, every single one of his senses coming alive with the realization that this single person, out of all the billion people on the planet, was the _one_ for him. The one who was his other half, who would make everything else in his world, his life, unbelievably sweeter just by being there. The missing piece of his heart, his soul, who he would do anything for simply to make them happy, because they were his and he was theirs. His _Mate_ , the one all parts of him would want to curl around, keep warm, shelter and provide for, because a Mate, even beyond pack, Pack or family, meant safety, home, love.

That didn’t mean it would be easy or simple. They didn’t know each other yet, not even their names. There were so many things they didn’t know about each other, and that would only come with time. That was why the courtship and wooing were so important; it would allow Steve the chance to prove himself, while giving him the opportunity to learn everything there was to know about his as of yet still mysterious to him Mate.

Clint and Natasha had perhaps had it easiest out of all of them. That didn’t mean theirs wasn’t a complicated relationship, but with both of them being werewolves they inherently knew, respected and understood what their instincts were telling them. Being mated did not simply erase all one’s existing problems, challenges or insecurities. Instead it provided each lucky member of the pairing the knowledge that this other person would stand by you, help you through them, support you in a way no one else could so you understood, heard in your soul and felt in your bones how much stronger you were together than you could ever possibly be apart. A constant work in progress, yes, but one that would make everything else easier, bearable, worth it, because that other person was by your side.

But Steve’s Mate was human, and that made his situation even more complicated than it would be if he were another werewolf.

While humans tended to romanticize the idea of mates, they didn’t understand it, not really. The way humans loved could be amazingly powerful and all-encompassing, but they did not feel the pull of a mate, not the way a were did, at least not at first. There would be a sense of curiosity, an inexplicable desire and attraction, a hunger to get closer, but it was not something that consumed them, not the way it did a werewolf. In fact, a human _could_ turn away from their werewolf mate, and sometimes did, and still end up living a happy, healthy and productive life, unlike the abandoned were.

Humans also tended to view mating as a sexual pairing, and while there was certainly a very healthy sexual dynamic to mates, that wasn’t always the case, and it was far from the most important aspect of the relationship. Books, movies and the rest of the media certainly didn’t help. While things had definitely changed and come a long way from when Lehigh was first founded, the most common conception portrayed in films and romance novels was of the looming, dominating virile were ravishing their partner, which was absolute bullshit. It was inherent to any were’s nature, whether the encounter was casual or not, to provide their partner with as much pleasure as they were feeling, if not more. Weres tended to enjoy sex, and enjoy it a lot, Steve certainly did, but that didn’t mean they had any desire to force themselves on someone. Or that it was all they were looking for in their relationships.

There was also the issue of choice. When a werewolf met their mate, they simply accepted this was the person they were meant to be with. That knowledge, that understanding, was written into every fiber of their being. Humans, on the other hand, resented it if they felt their choices were being taken away, that what the werewolf was telling them was true. Steve knew, had witnessed, how Sam struggled to convince Riley his interest was sincere, that there was no one else Sam could ever possibly want or love as much as he loved him. Thor and Jane’s relationship had been just as complicated; while madly in love with Thor, Jane had not wanted to give up the career she worked so hard for to relocate to another country. As a result, Thor moved from his home of Asgard in Norway, leaving behind his own family and Pack to settle here, and according to both of them, neither had any regrets. Still, humans had a hard time understanding the choice was truly theirs.

That was why there were rules that needed to be followed when one’s mate was a human.

Steve could court, could woo, prove he would be a good provider, his interest sincere, but his mate was the one who would ultimately have to make the first move and express a returning interest.

And fine, maybe leaving an anonymous watermelon with a ribbon tied around it on his mate’s doorstep was not the best first step to take; Steve was werewolf enough to admit that. But he’d panicked, OK? And as humiliating as it was, it wasn’t even the worst of it, but he was going to take that part of it with him to his grave.

He just had no idea. He probably should have, given he’d been there when Sam first saw Riley, Thor saw Jane, as well as several other bondings in Lehigh. There were the stories his mother told him of when she met his father, and as the _Alpha_ of their community, several weres and humans had come to him, asking for guidance and advice. But nothing, absolutely no amount of reading, eyewitness accounts, and passed on experience from others could have prepared him for when it happened to him.

He’d been shopping for groceries for the firehouse. While he was Lehigh’s _Alpha_ , with all major decisions needing to be approved by him, on paper he was listed as the town’s fire chief, a position he truly enjoyed. And just because he was the _Alpha_ , didn’t mean he expected anyone to service or cater to his needs. It was his turn on kitchen duty, and he enjoyed cooking for his team, his Pack, his little cobbled together family, another way for him to demonstrate how much he valued, appreciated, treasured their friendship and support. He’d been itchy and a bit out of sorts all day, and he thought he’d cook his mother’s coddle, his favorite comfort food, since the recipe was to die for and no one ever complained when he made it.

He loved the _Abundant Cornucopia_ , Lehigh’s main grocery store. While not as large as one of the supermarkets from the chains dotting the rest of the country, it carried everything a hungry were could possibly want or need. Not only that, but it had a fully stocked butcher with the freshest meats, sourced all its fruits and vegetables from local farmers, and its own bakery section. Jackie, the baker in charge, must have been trying a new recipe, because as soon as he walked in, Steve’s nose was filled with the sweetest, warmest, most delicious scent he ever smelled. He sniffed again, his eyes closing of their own accord, wanting to roll around in the glorious generosity of it, and knew he would be purchasing several of whatever it was Jackie baked that day.

Reaching for a basket, he sniffed a third time and paused, suddenly unsure. Because yes, the scent was rich and sweet, but there were layers to it, undercurrents not smelling like any food he’d ever sampled before. Clear running water, fresh leaves underfoot, the softest kiss of the full moon after winter’s first snowfall.

And for some inexplicable reason, just the slightest hint of…metal?

He didn’t know what it was or why he was smelling it, when he certainly never encountered anything like it before. Had one of their local farmers developed a new hybrid vegetable of some sort? How could something smell so sweet, spicy and yet clean at the same time? While he fully intended to stop at the deli counter first to pick up the pork sausage he needed, Steve found his feet leading him to the produce section, ignoring the nods and smiles of his fellow shoppers, every single one of his senses open and alert, even more engaged than if he were in his wolf form and on a run with his pack, leading a hunt. _What the hell was he smelling?_ And was he the one making those rumbling noises, like an adolescent were whose wolf was first reaching out to stretch its legs? Blinking and shaking his head, because he was the _Alpha_ , and knew for damned sure he had better control than this, he turned the corner at the end of the aisle and…

That’s when he saw him.

He was tall and lean, with broad shoulders and long legs. He had pale skin, plump limps and a sharp jawline partially concealed by a wave of shoulder length dark hair.

But it was the smell of him, _the smell of him._ Now there were no barriers between them, the full, uninterrupted smell of him hit Steve like the crash of a wave, the rumble of an avalanche, the sweetest, softest, most yearned for kiss.

Contrary to popular belief, weres did not view their wolf as something separate from themselves; it wasn’t one or the other, either/or. He was the wolf and the wolf was him, no matter what form he was in. But at that moment his wolf was prancing, wagging its tail, _yip-yip-yipping_ inside of him, wanting to run and play and curl around and _I will be so good to you, I promise, I promise_ and _please please please rub my belly, rub my belly, rubmybellyrubmybellyrubmybelly._

Instinct and hunger and a safe den that was home and heart and love, the wolf in him demanding he heed the call.

That’s when Steve realized exactly what was happening. He was staring at his Mate, a man he had never seen before, the one destined to be his, his own personal moon not to howl to, but carry in his heart.

Who was standing on the opposite end of the aisle in the produce section, his own shopping basket at his feet, smiling at the watermelon he was cradling in his hands.

Steve was absolutely dumbstruck, his heart racing, palms sweating. He needed to move but couldn’t. But he had to do something, because his mate was _right there,_ less than four meters away. Steve was wracking his brain, desperately trying to think of something, anything to say, when a chirping sound suddenly cut through the air, causing his mate to frown and put the watermelon back on top of its pile.

“Hello?” Even his voice, a soft rasp with a faint Brooklyn accent Steve immediately recognized, was a ripple whispering of secrets and sweetness, promises in the night that ran along Steve’s spine like a stroke of velvet. “What?...No, I’m not home yet, I’m at the grocery store…Yeah, right, OK, I’m on my way, give me five minutes.” He was turning away and Steve was about to go after him, give chase, because he couldn’t let him go, not now, not without at least introducing himself first.

Except his feet apparently hadn’t gotten the memo. Or his body couldn’t remember what form it was in, if he was walking on two legs or four. He intended to follow, but as he made to step forward, the rest of his body went left, and he crashed into the display of soup cans at the end of aisle, ending up on his ass on the floor as the entire pyramid rained down around him.

“Oh my god! Captain Rogers are you alright?” Nellie, the floor manager, gasped, rushing over and kneeling down besides him. Followed by a fellow shopper, (Carlos, nice guy, a lifelong resident of Lehigh, human and a single father of three children, he would remember later), who had also witnessed his humiliation. However, at the moment none of that mattered. Because when he looked back up, the man, his mate, was long gone. Steve would have thought he imagined him, if not for the half-filled shopping basket forgotten on the floor.

And the watermelon he’d held, still on top of the pile where he so carefully placed it.

The watermelon he’d smiled at so sweetly, as if it were the best watermelon in the world.

And OK, Steve knew what he did next was probably not the smartest decision he ever made. Fine, there was no probably about it. But he needed to do something, and he was desperate, all right? So after assuring both Nellie and Carlos he was fine, and apologizing for the mess he made, and then being assured that _‘Oh no, it wasn’t a problem, absolutely not Captain Rogers. In fact, they would never set up a display there again, since it was obviously dangerous, and are you sure you’re not hurt?’_ , he bought the watermelon, carefully carrying it, and what little was left of his dignity, in his arms out of the store.

After that, it was easy. Contrary to that day’s shopping misadventures, Steve was a good _Alpha,_ and aware of everything that went on in _his_ town. He knew several new residents moved to Lehigh over the past six months, all of them human, even if he didn’t know them each personally. Unless it was a werewolf, it was not required they introduce themselves, and even that was more of a gentle formality, a way to check in and see if there was anything the new were needed or issues they were facing, and what, if anything, could be done to help them adjust. As long as the humans were not causing any trouble, or struggling themselves to fit in, Steve trusted the rest of his pack, both human and were, to help them learn the ropes. And so far, as of yet, it seemed as if all the newcomers were doing well, building lives for themselves. There was the sixth grade teacher, who from all reports the students adored. The massage therapist who did house calls and according to Riley had magic hands. Luis, the new paramedic, who was a friend of Scott’s and been down on his luck, but was thriving in Lehigh. The surgical nurse the hospital hired, who Bruce claimed was the best assistant he ever worked with, which was high praise from their normally reserved chief of surgery. And lastly the mechanic working at _Rocket’s_ , a vet who had initially been struggling but was currently doing really well now he was getting the support and sense of community he needed. Steve had already met Luis, and knew he wasn’t his mate, and the massage therapist was a woman, so that narrowed it down to three.

He could ask Natasha for their details. She was a hell of a firefighter, one of the best he ever worked with, and he was proud to have her on his team. But she was even better at ferreting out information and secrets, making sure Steve knew everything he needed to before he made a decision, and a big reason why his pack worked as well as it did.

But he didn’t need her help, not now. Because once smelled, the scent of his mate would never be forgotten and Steve could track him anywhere. After texting his teammates to let them know something had come up and he wouldn’t be returning, and making a pitstop at the local stationary store to buy a bow, he waited until after the supermarket closed, stood outside, took a deep, deep sniff and followed the sweet trail of perfume his mate had left. 

He was living in one of the smaller complexes on the outskirts of Lehigh, on the opposite side of town from where Steve lived. In spite of his internal grumbling of _my house is better, bigger, you would be more comfortable there, I would protect you and keep you warm,_ the older buildings were quaint and well-kept. A second sniff led him to an apartment on the second floor, old Mr. Roth’s place, a kind and funny senior everyone had liked, who passed away several months ago. It seemed someone else finally moved in, someone who was destined to forever change Steve’s life.

Thankfully from the sounds of it, everyone in the building was asleep by then, and there was no risk of anyone stepping into the hallway to see him standing outside his mate’s door, sniffing the frame like a creeper. But the smell, that glorious, glorious smell was even stronger here, along with an undercurrent of lasagna, _and was that dirty litter box and cat?_ , and Steve couldn’t help himself. He wanted to shift into his wolf form and curl up into a tight, little ball on top of the welcome mat and wait for his mate to open the door.

But that was not how these things were done, and Steve was _not_ a creeper. He wasn’t, OK? No matter what his wolf’s instincts were telling him to do.

And those instincts weren’t done with him yet, far from it. Because as much as he wanted to prove he would be a good mate, an excellent provider, he didn’t want to let go of the watermelon. Steve didn’t even really like watermelon, but his mate had touched it, run his fingers over it, smiled as he held it. It was covered in his scent, like a…well, like a watermelon sized ball of mate-scent, and Steve didn’t want to let it go. Wanted to bring it home instead, bundle it in a pile of blankets and sleep wrapped around it.

But part of the courtship process, of wooing one’s mate, was proving his worth as a provider. Not only that, but that he could pay attention, notice details, and no matter what his stupid, conflicting instincts were telling him to do, always put his mate’s wants and desires above his own.

His mate had wanted this watermelon, so Steve would give it to him.

As soon as he could let go of it. Which he would. Any second now.

_Come on Steve, you can do this, just put the watermelon down. It’s for your Mate._

After fifteen minutes, Steve was finally able to bend over and unwrap his fingers from the watermelon, placing it carefully on the welcome mat, making sure the bow was upright, so its bright and bouncy ribbons would be the first thing his mate saw when he opened the door.

Then with one final deep sniff, he turned and carefully walked – _walked, he walked, he did not creep, he was not a creeper, OK?_ – down the stairs and out the front door.

But not before he stopped to check the name on the mailbox that matched the number on his mate’s door.

J.B. Barnes

_Hello JB,_ he thought as he ran his fingertips over the small nameplate. _It’s very nice to meet you. I hope you like the watermelon._

***

“So then you just left the watermelon on his doorstep, and what? Creeped out of his apartment building like a creeper?” Sam asked, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes.

“I am not a creeper!” Steve felt it necessary to proclaim. _He was totally a creeper._

“You were totally a creeper, weren’t you?” Natasha smirked at him.

“No!” _Yes._

“You know we can smell it when you lie, right?”

“I’m not lying, Sam.” He was _totally_ lying.

“You are so lying right now,” Clint, who finally stopped laughing, decided to chime in. “But you know, that is totally something the Watermelon Creeper would do.”

“The what now?” Steve asked.

“The Watermelon Creeper, your supervillain name,” Clint explained.

“My what?”

“Your supervillain name,” Clint repeated as if Steve were stupid. “Every villain has one. The Joker, Doctor Doom, the Red Skull, and now you – the Watermelon Creeper.” By the time Clint finished, the room was so silent a pin dropping would have been loud.

“How the hell do you put up with him?” Steve turned toward Natasha.

“He gives great foot rubs,” Natasha shrugged.

“That’s because you’re my wolfy dumpling. With those cute little feet.”

_Oh Jesus, why him?_ Steve couldn’t help but wonder for the millionth time that day. And then he sighed.

“I just,” he began to circle his fingertip over the scratch on the table. “I smelled him, and then I saw him standing there, and everything in my brain just melted. I panicked. I know the watermelon was stupid, but I couldn’t think of anything else to do. I’ve seen it happen before, plenty of times, but I didn’t know it would feel like this.”

“It hits you like that.” This time when Sam spoke, his voice was kind. As was the hand he began running over the back of Steve’s shoulder. “It feels like you’re flying and the ground’s been knocked out from under you at the same time, and there’s no way you could possibly prepare for it. But it’s worth it.”

“It really, really is.” Natasha slid her chair closer to Steve’s so she could rest her head on his shoulder.

“What did Clint give you as your first courting gift?” Steve asked, taking a sniff of her hair, the sharp spiciness of her both comfortable and familiar, safe and welcome. He had been there, during their wooing dance, but the details were usually kept private between two courting mates.

“The most beautiful set of knives I’d ever seen,” she smiled. “And on the next full moon, I hunted and presented him a stag.”

“It was huge!” Clint crowed proudly, his happy scent, that smelled of popcorn and pizza for some strange reason, blooming in the air.

“We ate it together.”

“Ah, true love,” Thor sighed.

“What about you?” Steve focused his attention on Thor. “What was your first gift to Jane?”

“I presented my Lady Jane with a _smalahove,_ ” Thor beamed.

“A _smalahove?_ ” Steve asked.

“A salted and boiled sheep’s head,” Thor said.

“And she liked it?” Werewolves were not fussy eaters by nature, especially when in their wolf form, but Steve could not imagine a human, especially an American one, being particularly happy to receive a sheep’s head as a courting gift.

“No.” But Thor was still smiling, even as he shook his head. “She screamed for an hour before throwing it back at me. Then two days later she ran me over with her car when she was leaving work. She is a feisty one, my Jane, but I was determined to prove my worth and eventually won her over. Ours is a love story that will live on in legend.” As he spoke the room was filled with the essence of thunder and lightning, and cleansing rainstorms, Thor’s scent whenever he was truly happy.

“OK.” Steve was seriously beginning to think a watermelon with a ribbon on it was certainly not the worst gift he could have given his newly discovered mate. “What did you give Riley, Sam?”

“Sam left a dead rabbit on the hood of my car,” a new voice called from the doorway.

“I said I was sorry!” Sam said. But as he spoke the words, already on his feet and striding over to Riley, the air filled with the aroma of warm honey and softly burning candles, the smell of Sam when he was at his best, his already generous heart fit to burst with all the love he felt for his mate.

“You know me and Gail had a pet bunny growing up, right?” Riley was glaring at Sam, but his arms were already open for an embrace.

“I think you may have mentioned that a time or two, or six thousand.” Sam bent to run his cheeks over Riley’s, scent marking him, before hugging him tightly. “Hey baby. What’s up? Why’re you here?”

“Hey yourself, Sweet Stuff,” Riley kissed Sam’s cheek. “And I’m on my lunchbreak. Decided to come over here so we could eat together, if that’s all right.”

“You know you never have to ask, Riley. It’s always OK,” Steve said, as everyone began to shuffle to make enough room for him.

“Thanks,” Riley smiled, rolling his wheelchair over to the table. “And just exactly why are we talking about dead rabbits and getting run over by cars?”

“Steve’s met his mate,” Natasha leaned over to press a kiss of her own to Riley’s cheek.

“Ah, OK, that makes sense,” Riley nodded. “And congratulations, Steve. I know what an amazing day that is for werewolves.”

“Thanks, Riley.” Sam’s mate really was a sweetheart.

“What dead thing did you leave on his car? A raccoon? Possum?” Or maybe not.

“Steve left a watermelon on his doorstep!” Clint was back to giggling.

“I put a bow on it!” Steve threw his arms up in the air.

“And then creeped away like a creeper,” Sam was back to being an asshole.

“Steve did what now?” And this was just great; as if his day couldn’t get any more embarrassing, Scott, the only human member of their Pack who wasn’t someone’s mate, and one of their firehouse’s pair of paramedics, was now here.

“Who’s a creeping creeper?” Along with his partner Luis.

“Steve has met his mate!” Thor decreed.

“And instead of just walking up to him, and introducing himself,” Sam began.

“Or leaving a dead bunny on the hood of his car.”

“I said I was sorry!”

“Steve followed him home and left a watermelon on his doorstep in the middle of the night,” Natasha finished.

“I put a bow on it!”

“And then crept away like a creeping creeper,” Clint just had to add.

“Ah,” Scott said after a moment and then shrugged. “OK.”

“That’s why his supervillain name is the Watermelon Creeper.” Steve was going to bite Clint the next time they were on a run together.

“Oh yeah, just like my Tio Rico,” Luis nodded.

_What?_

“Better than the Bunny Murderer.”

“Will you let it go?”

“His name was Fluffy Boots.”

“Do you want me to get you another bunny?”

“Not if you’re just going to murder it!”

“Are there any of those muffins from this morning left?” Scott asked, walking towards the kitchen.

“Whatever you do Steve, don’t leave him dead things. I know that’s how you weres prove your prowess or hunting skills or whatever, but take it from a human. We don’t like dead things,” Riley said.

“True,” Scott agreed, digging through the cabinets.

“Unless it’s a cockroach,” Luis added. “The only good cockroach is a dead cockroach.”

“Do _not_ leave him a dead cockroach either,” Riley warned Steve with a pointed finger.

“Ew, no,” Scott agreed.

“I am not going to give him a dead cockroach!”

“Just a watermelon,” Natasha grinned.

“I put a bow on it!”

“Yes, we know,” Thor said. “A red, white and blue one because it was the biggest one in the store.”

“That you left on his doorstep in the middle of the night like a creeper,” Sam said.

“Says the Bunny Murderer,” Riley whispered, very, very loudly.

“And that’s why your name is the Watermelon Creeper.” Steve was going to bite Clint twice.

“Just like my Tio Rico.”

That was when Steve decided enough was enough, and gathering what little dignity he had left, which truthfully wasn’t very much at this point, rose and with his shoulders back and head held high, slowly walked out of the room. He wasn’t some creeping creeper, bunny murderer, or whatever the hell Luis’ Tio Rico was. He was Lehigh’s _Alpha,_ who had just been given the greatest gift possible. He was simply going to have to do better next time, that was all.

Then they’d see, they’d all see, what a good provider and partner he could be, especially his mate.

***

He did not do better next time.

***

Or the time after that.

***

Or the time after that.


	3. Chapter 3

Truthfully, Steve knew the kind of werewolf he was. He was a good werewolf, not a perfect one, but a good one. He cared about everyone, not just the werewolves, but _everyone_ in his pack, wanting all he was responsible for to not only do well, but have the freedom to choose how to find their way. He hated cruelty, despised bullies, and truly believed strength was not a physical element, but a willingness to always do what was right, extend a hand and an offer of help to those in need. True, he could be a bit impetuous, and had gotten into more than his fair share of fights growing up. But he knew that about himself, and that had always come from a desire to help those around him instead of hurt. Even as a child, scrawny as he’d been, the wolf in him felt it was his duty to protect those unable to protect themselves.

Peggy had been the one to help him refine and control his instincts. After his mom, a human, moved them from Brooklyn to upstate New York during his mid-teens so he could be close to other wolves and presenting him to Lehigh’s then Alpha, Peggy recognized something in him that up until then no one but his mother had. For reasons unknown to him then, the elderly werewolf, still striking and with the sharpest mind he’d ever encountered, took him under her tail, teaching him balance, precision and control. It was not about suppressing his urges, according to her, but refining them, shaping them, learning how to use them to achieve a desired result.

_Humans are the most intelligent creatures on the planet,_ Peggy was fond of saying. _But just because they’re intelligent doesn’t mean they possess the wisdom to know how to use that intelligence. Wolves are also extremely intelligent, some of the world’s deadliest predators. But wolves love their families more than anything else, and they understand that their Pack is only as strong as its weakest member, and look after each other as a result. Werewolves are not one or the other, but both. It is up to us to take the best parts of each side of ourselves and use them to make the world a better place._

He missed Peggy so much sometimes, almost as much as he missed his mother, even now, a decade since her death. But after more than sixty-five happy years together, her human mate Angie died, and in typical werewolf fashion, heartbroken, Peggy followed not long after.

He wondered what she would say, what advice she would have, now that he had found his mate. How to deal with not only the urges inside him, but the fear also there. What wise words of encouragement she would offer, while also soothing his worries.

Who was he kidding? She would take one look at him, tell him to stop being so dramatic and just get on with it.

Steve knew he could be a good mate, the best possible mate for JB Barnes. He was not only an alpha, but the _Alpha,_ and Lehigh was thriving under his care. He was powerful and strong, and aside from Thor there were none bigger on the entire East Coast, if not the entire country. He owned his own home, had a steady income, as well as a great, _great_ pack and Pack. He could provide for, shelter, and keep safe, all the things a werewolf wanted to give their mate.

But, and here was the most important thing, JB Barnes was also Steve’s Mate, and that meant they were equals. With him, Steve wouldn’t have to be the _Alpha,_ or even an alpha, but just _Steve_. A mate meant safety and the freedom to be who you were, all the good and bad of it. With his mate, Steve could show the sides of himself he never shared with anyone, without fear of judgement. That as much as he loved to run with his pack for hours, he also loved to spend just as much time sitting quietly, drawing. That while he believed everyone in Lehigh should have access to the internet, Instagram confused the fuck out of him. And while he was always the first to reach out and offer aid when someone in his town was dealing with a loss, he still missed his mother, sometimes desperately so, with an ache that tightened his throat and brought tears to his eyes.

He just had to find a way to introduce himself first.

And not, you know, with a watermelon.

He needed to make a good impression, the right impression. He also knew in this case it was probably best if he reigned in his impulsiveness. And that was fine, he could do that. He was intelligent, he knew that about himself, and could strategize. He just needed to be patient and observant, and once he had enough information, wait for the perfect moment to reveal his intentions in such a way his mate would immediately know they were meant to be.

He just had to come up with a plan.

***

He did not come up with a plan.

Or at least, not a good one. Steve thought it would be as simple as merely tracking his scent, stepping into his path and casually introducing himself as Lehigh’s _Alpha,_ welcoming him to the town, and then asking if there was anything Steve could personally do to help him settle in, and _Oh hey, did he know about Lehigh’s Fall Street Fair?_ and how Steve would be more than happy to personally escort him there and show him around. It would prove he was interested, concerned about his mate’s welfare, and proud to be seen with him.

The snag in that plan was ever since Steve first caught the scent of his mate, its essence imprinting on his brain, he was now smelling him _everywhere._ Not just in the supermarket, but the hardware shop, the pet supply place, the bank, the bookstore, the park, four different coffee houses, and just about every restaurant on Grant Avenue. Apparently his mate was so far spending his time in Lehigh exploring everything it had to offer. Which was great; it meant he was getting to know the town, making himself familiar with all its choices and amenities.

But it also meant it was driving the wolf side of him crazy, since there were traces of him wherever Steve went. As a result his wolf, the part of him refined into a keen and cunning hunter, was spending all of his time gamboling around in Steve’s brain like a puppy in a dandelion bush, with an endless chant of _here, here, here, he was here, rub my belly, rubmybelly, hewasherehewashereHEWASHERE!_

“Um, Captain Rogers, I’m sorry to bother you, but can I ask…Why are you smelling that flowerpot?” Wanda’s quiet question broke through Steve’s mate-scent filled blissful haze, causing him to jerk upright from, yes, the flowerpot he realized he’d been smelling for the past ten minutes.

“Well, um, it’s-it’s a very pretty plant. It smells nice?” Steve stammered, hoping she wouldn’t catch the lie. Weres hated to lie and when others lied to them, since they could always smell it. But this was an _emergency._

“Yes, well, hibiscus smell really nice. It’s just that,” Wanda wrung her hands nervously together in front of her, “you weren’t smelling the plant. You were…smelling the pot?” She was such a nice young human, Wanda, with her soft, sweet scent of flowers. She found her way to Lehigh five years ago, a refugee from Sokovia after losing her entire family. She’d been so quiet and shy, unsure of herself and the world around her. But Lehigh’s citizens had done what they were known for, reaching out with kindness and encouragement, helping her find her footing. Within a short time she bloomed, just like all the flowers in her shop bloomed, the most patronized florist in Lehigh. Steve really liked her, was thrilled she’d been able to find her way, and the last thing he wanted was make her nervous.

“It’s a very pretty pot, that’s all,” Steve straightened with a smile, wanting to put her at ease. “For a very pretty flower.”

“Hibiscus are very pretty,” she smiled back at him. “They do well both indoors and out, and are super easy to care for. You can even use the blooms to make a tea.”

“Really?” Steve hadn’t known that.

“Uh-huh,” she reached out to gently stroke one of the bright orange blossoms. “Pretty popular today too.”

“Really?” Steve asked again.

“Oh yes,” she nodded. “I had a customer stop by earlier asking about them. New in town, tall, with long brown hair. Have you met him yet?”

“Um, no.” Because Steve was not just a creeper, apparently he was also a liar. Although he hadn’t _technically_ met his mate yet.

“Oh well, he was very, very nice. Polite and friendly,” Wanda went on, as if she were reporting to him. As he was the _Alpha,_ it made sense she would share her impressions of the newcomer with him. “He was interested in getting some plants for his apartment, but he wanted something cat-safe. I told him hibiscus were fine. He ended up buying two.”

“I’ll take twenty.”

“Um…what?” She blinked at him.

“Twenty. I’ll take twenty. The prettiest ones you have.”

“I only have six left.” She looked so worried.

“That’s fine,” he rushed to reassure her, although he could feel his wolf’s ears drooping. Six was not twenty, but it would have to do. And it wasn’t Wanda’s fault; he didn’t want to upset her. “I’ll take all six.”

“I could order more if you like,” she offered. “It would take a day or two for them to get here, and then I would have to check them over to make sure they’re healthy, but I should be able to have them delivered to you by Friday.”

“No, no, don’t worry about it, Wanda,” he smiled at her again. “The six are fine.”

“All right then, let me just ring you up. Do you want me to have them delivered to the firehouse?”

***

“Why is there a bush on the coffee table?” Scott asked.

“It is the smell of true love blooming in the air!” Thor decreed.

“Or the Watermelon Creeper being a creeper. Again,” Clint laughed.

“What the hell did you do now Steve?” Sam wanted to know.

***

Luck was on Steve’s side the second time. Bad luck, but at least it was luck.

He and his team had just returned from a call out, where thankfully no one was hurt. (Mrs. Rosenbaum’s cat had gotten stuck in a tree. _Again._ ) It was close to lunch, and Steve and his Pack were all in the mood for sandwiches. Natasha called the order in and Steve, since he was still in the process of sniffing his mate out, agreed to pick it up, as their favorite deli was only a few blocks away. Steve just turned the corner, his wolf happily informing him _here, he’s been here, and here, and here_ , when he actually saw the object of his heart’s desire stepping out of _Little Licks,_ Lehigh’s gourmet ice cream parlor. He was wearing a hoodie over what was obviously a pair of hospital scrubs, which meant he was the new surgical nurse Bruce spoke so highly of, and smiling.

Steve once again froze, mesmerized by both the sight and scent of him, a touch of disinfectant but under that clear running water, fresh leaves, a kiss of winter, but somehow warm too, and was that vanilla? With rainbow sprinkles? Where had that come from?

Oh, yeah, that’s right. His mate was carrying an ice cream cone.

Steve was determined this time and he wasn’t going to let this opportunity go to waste. He just needed the right approach.

His mate apparently liked vanilla ice cream, which was fine, it was a good flavor, and _Little Licks’_ was creamy and rich. But what they were really known for, were famous for, was their milkshakes, especially the peanut butter ones. If his mate wanted to experience the treasures of Lehigh, there was no better taste than one of their peanut butter milkshakes.

Lunch forgotten, Steve dashed into the shop, which thankfully wasn’t crowded and rushed up to the counter.

“Oh hello Captain Rogers! How nice to see you – “

“One large peanut butter milkshake please. And I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but can you make it quick? I’m in a bit of a hurry.” Steve hating cutting Katie, the human store owner, off. She was funny, with a sharp sense of humor, and Clint was very fond of her, and her ice cream. But this was an _emergency!_

“Of course. One large peanut butter milkshake coming right up.” Katie was already scooping three generous portions of their homemade ice cream into a metal cup, while Ned, a high school student and human lifelong resident of Lehigh who worked there parttime, got everything else ready. They were rushing because he was the _Alpha_ , not even bothering with their usual friendly chatter, and while Steve normally never took advantage of his position, hated even the thought of it, he had a limited window of time if he wanted to make a good impression.

In under two minutes, Steve had his very _important_ milkshake in hand and was back out on the street, sniffing the air.

_Left, left, that way, left_ , his wolf told him, which made sense, since it was toward the hospital. Steve ran down the street, ignoring the curious stares he knew he was getting, took another left at the next corner, and once again froze.

His mate was standing at the very end of the block, staring at the window of the bookshop, scanning the titles. His hair was pulled up into a loose bun, a few strands escaping to hang down his long, pale neck. But the sight, as amazing as it was, wasn’t what caused Steve to stop in his tracks.

No, it was the fact that his mate, his perfect, perfect, born just for him mate, had started eating his ice cream, his pretty pink tongue licking at the vanilla droplets running down the side of the cone.

_Lick, lick, lick, I will lick you all over, ALLOVER, please let me lick you all over, rub my belly, rubmybellylicklicklick!_

Steve needed to close his eyes and take a deep breath, ignoring the voice from somewhere behind him calling his name, in order to get his wolf under control so he didn’t just pounce the man.

But the voice was getting louder, insistent, and it was annoying the hell out of him. Couldn’t they see how important this was?

Steve shifted his weight, a warning of _“What?”_ on his lips, because his mate straightened and was already walking away. Except when he turned, instead of growling, he ran headfirst into a lamppost, so hard he saw a burst of stars before he blacked out.

***

“Well, you didn’t break any skin, and thankfully there’s no concussion, but you’re definitely going to have a lump. With how fast you werewolves heal, it’ll be gone by tomorrow morning. Given that it’s you, I’d even wager it’ll be sooner than that. But I’m still banning you from work for the next twenty-four hours,” Scott said, clicking off his penlight and replacing it in his kit.

“I’m fine,” Steve insisted.

“Uh huh.” Sam’s arms were crossed, which was never a good sign. “That’s why you were passed out in the street when we got there, with Ned hyperventilating.”

“He thought he killed you,” Luis added.

“Why was he following me anyway?” Steve squinted at Sam.

“Apparently, you were in such a rush you left your card in the reader. Katie wanted to make sure Ned got it back to you as soon as possible,” Sam answered. “Be thankful. He was the one who called 911 and stayed with you ‘til we got there.”

“Oh.” Steve pressed his fingers to the lump on his forehead and winced.

“Stop touching it,” Scott batted his hand away. “Jesus, Cassie has more restraint than you, and she’s seven.”

“I bet you’re nicer to Cassie than you are to me,” Steve grumbled.

“Yeah well, she’s my kid. Of course I am.”

“She’s cuter too,” Luis said.

“And smarter.”

“Thanks Sam,” Steve frowned.

“What I want to know is why, instead of picking up our lunch like you said you would, you decided you needed an emergency milkshake,” Sam matched Steve’s frown with a scowl of his own.

“You didn’t ask us if we wanted any milkshakes,” Scott complained.

“You went to _Little Licks_ and didn’t tell us?” Clint demanded from the doorway. “That’s shitty, Steve.”

“How’s Ned?” Sam asked him.

“Fine,” Clint waved Sam off. “Worried Steve’s going to kill him, but otherwise fine. Did you know Steve hit his head so hard the lamppost is now crooked?”

“I am _not_ going to kill Ned.”

“Yeah well, that may be, but Nat’s probably going to kill you when she gets back. She had to go pick up our order because you didn’t. Do you know how cranky she gets when she’s hungry?” Clint held out Steve’s stupid debit card, the reason he was in this entire mess to begin with.

“Why is Steve’s crotch covered with,” Thor paused as he entered the room and took a deep sniff of the air, because Steve’s day couldn’t get any worse. “Peanut butter ice cream?”

“Because, Steve hasn’t admitted it yet, but I’m willing to bet this has something to do with his mate, and Steve not just introducing himself, you know, like a normal person would.” Steve was really going to have to start looking for a new best friend; Sam sucked at it.

“The Watermelon Creeper strikes again!” Clint declared.

“Just like Tio Rico.”

Never mind new friends, Steve was going to have to move. He groaned, lowering his head to his hands.

“Stop touching it!”

***

Today was going to be the day. Steve did not care what he had to do to make it happen, but it _was_ going to happen today. His wolf was restless, demanding they resume the hunt, so he bowed out of lunch with his team, and after a groaned _“Really?”_ from Sam and a very sharp side-eye from Nat, made his way back out onto the streets.

He didn’t have to look very far. Two blocks later, and Steve caught the scent. Four additional blocks of his wolf’s happy _this way, this way, close now, close, let me lick you,_ and _rub my belly, rub my belly, rubmybelly!_ and there he was, Steve’s Mate, heading into the library.

From what Steve had already seen, and now this, it was obvious his mate liked to read. And that was good, that was more than good. Lehigh had an excellent library, which the entire town was proud of, and who didn’t enjoy books?

And so what if Steve couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d sat down and read a book for pleasure; he tended to prefer drawing or running in his second shape whenever he had some free time. But he knew what books were and his inner tail was wagging at the thought of the two of them together in his den, his wolf curled around his mate while his mate read him story after story. (There may also have been a lot of licking and belly rubs in his fantasies, but books too. Somewhere.)

Thankfully, this time his feet knew exactly where to go, and when Steve’s mind cleared, he was already inside the library, trailing happily after that delicious scent. He was so entranced he barely noticed Riley, who called out a friendly hello from the welcome desk when he saw Steve walk past, making his way to the tall stacks of shelves at the back of the first floor. His mate was so close Steve could practically taste, _lick, licklicklick,_ him, and it was simply a matter of introducing himself with a…

With a…

With a what?

_So, you like books huh?_

Was that douchey? That was kind of douchey, wasn’t it? Besides, given Steve already witnessed his mate reading the titles through a bookstore window, and the fact he was in the library now, it was obvious JB Barnes liked to read. True, it showed Steve was observant and had been paying attention, but was that creepy? It was kind of creepy, wasn’t it? And Steve was _not_ a creeper, OK? He wasn’t. _(Shut up Sam, Nat, Clint, Thor and Scott.)_ Maybe he should just casually bring up a book and ask if his mate had read it, what his opinion on it was.

Except Steve really wasn’t a casual reader, and he could not honestly remember the last book he’d read for fun.

And goddammit, why was this so hard?

Steve decided to fall back on his old standby, reconnaissance. He would watch for a bit, pay attention to what sections he was lingering in, and then ask him to make a recommendation. With a very charming smile of course. _(Shut up Sam, Nat, Clint, Thor and Scott. He could totally do charming.)_

So to his wolf’s disappointment, Steve kept his distance, just for now, observing from afar, crouching low and peering around corners as his mate made his way through the shelves. He appeared familiar with the layout, already carrying two books. It also appeared he was searching for something specific, carefully scanning each spine as he passed, his brow slightly furrowed. A minute later, he apparently found what he was looking for, pulling a book down from the crowded shelves, reading the back and then flipping it open. Whatever it was, it ended up not being what he wanted, and he returned it to the shelf before walking to the end of the aisle and turning right.

Curiosity piqued, Steve _(fine, he could admit it, he creeped, OK?)_ over to exact spot his mate had been standing in to check which book caught his attention. It took him a moment, because the air was rich with the scent of his mate, and he needed to pause to breath in that wonderful smell of clean water, fresh leaves and winter moonlight. Along with a hell of a lot of dust. So much so it made his nose itch. Steve ignored it, reaching for the book, even more curious now. Except it wouldn’t come; it was jammed into the crowded shelf so tightly he needed to give it an extra hard yank. Which he did, at the exact same instant his nose decided, mate-scent or not, there really was too much dust in the air, and he sneezed. He must have pulled too hard, because a second later the book came free, along with not only the rest of the ones on the level, but the entire shelf as well, sending Steve and at least a hundred books tumbling to the floor.

_Oh hello floor,_ Steve’s ass said, _it’s been a while. Nice to see you again._

“What the – Steve are you alright?” When Steve blinked, Riley was at the end of the aisle, staring at him with his mouth hanging open. He must have been following Steve since he entered, concerned when Steve didn’t stop to say hello.

“I…I…” Steve stammered and then quickly realized that he wasn’t alright. He could make out the sound of running footsteps, and the scent he’d been tracking coming closer, and he couldn’t, _he just couldn’t,_ let the first time his mate saw him be like this; sprawled on the floor, surrounded by books about, a quick glance revealed, _kittens_. What kind of wolf, hunter, provider would that make him look like?

A stupid one, that’s what.

“Steve, what the hell happened?” Riley asked, rolling his wheelchair closer. But Steve didn’t have time for this.

Knowing Sam was going to be furious with him, Steve scrambled to his feet, and used his werewolf speed and agility, that _now_ decided to make an appearance, to dash away, calling a quick “Sorry Riley, gotta go!” over his shoulder.

_“Steve!”_

The last thing he heard as he ran toward the exit was his mate’s stunned voice saying, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! That must have been my fault. Here, let me help you clean this up.”

***

“So Riley wants me to let you know you’re banned from the library,” Sam said when he found Steve sitting in the back of their firetruck. He’d been hiding there for the past forty-five minutes. If he’d been in his wolf form, both his ears _and_ tail would be drooping.

“He can’t do that,” Steve muttered, playing forlornly with the laces on his boots.

“As the head librarian, he most certainly can.” Steve did not have to look at Sam to know his arms were crossed.

“I didn’t mean to make a mess,” Steve mumbled.

“Uh-huh.”

“I didn’t.” Steve sighed and finally looked up. “Was it bad?”

“Not too bad,” Sam rested his foot on the back bumper of the truck. “And thankfully, one of the patrons offered to help. Nice guy, according to Riley. Thought it was his fault for some reason, no matter how many times Riley assured him it wasn’t. Care to explain why he thought that?”

“No.” Petulant, thy name is Steve.

“Uh-huh,” Sam repeated. Steve sighed again.

“Tell Riley I’m really, really sorry.”

“You can tell him yourself at dinner tonight.”

“Fine.” Riley couldn’t be too mad at him if Steve was still invited to the weekly dinner they hosted for the Pack.

“Riley also wanted me to tell you, you were in the wrong section, and _this_ is the book you were looking for.” When Sam held out his hand, he was holding a black and yellow book, whose cover read _Courting Your Human Mate for Werewolf Dummies_.

Or maybe not.

***

At this point, Steve could admit he was probably really bad at this whole courting his mate thing. Really, _really_ bad at it. But persistence was a virtue, and Steve was nothing if not determined. Besides, how much worse could it get?

It could get so much worse. So much.

As a last resort, Steve decided to go back to the basics. He knew where his mate worked, and that he tended to go out during his lunchbreak. He just had to hang around the entrance and wait for his mate to either leave or return, and then introduce himself. It might not be the most original or unforgettable way to make a first impression, but by now he was desperate. Besides, they were meant to be, and an introduction should be all that was required before nature and fate took their course.

Then again, nature and fate never had to deal with Steve. Either that or they were having too much fun watching Steve make a fool out of himself.

He just really wished he had an in, something a little more memorable than a simple _Hi, my name is Steve. What’s yours?_ Was that so wrong?

He really should have known better by now.

That’s why he was currently crouched in a bush, being angrily chittered at by a squirrel.

He didn’t mean to be crouched in a bush, he really didn’t. It was just as he was making his way to the hospital, cutting through the small park used by both the patients and staff, he saw the object of his heart’s true desire eating his lunch on a bench not twenty feet away, talking to Bruce. He was waving his free hand in the air as he spoke, and Bruce was nodding along quietly, as was his way, interested in whatever his mate was saying.

This was Steve’s chance, and he was sure Bruce would put in a good word for him. Except whatever they were talking about seemed to be important, and since Bruce was JB Barnes’ boss, he didn’t want to interrupt them if it was work related. But what if it was something his mate was worried about? Something Steve could help with, if only he knew what it was?

With that reasoning (excuse, Steve knew it was an excuse, but he didn’t care) Steve decided to listen in for a few minutes, before he made his presence known.

By hiding in a bush eight feet away, close enough for his werewolf senses to allow him to overhear their conversation.

Even Steve could not deny he was being a creeper at this point. The bush also had a previous occupant who was not pleased by Steve’s presence. Perhaps Steve had crouched too close to his winter stockpile of acorns and he was being warned off. Or maybe he agreed Steve was a creeper, and decided it was his duty to instruct Steve on proper wooing etiquette. Hence the angry squirrel, standing on its hind legs, furiously cursing him out in chips and chitters.

“Shoo,” Steve whispered, gently nudging it with his foot. The squirrel was not put off, or amused, its complaints growing louder. Steve ignored it, focusing his attention back to the conversation he was trying to overhear.

“…just happened…felt really bad…” Steve could hear his mate saying.

“Don’t worry…fine…would’ve said…” Bruce’s calm and quiet voice answered.

“Didn’t mean to…” Steve never got to hear what his mate didn’t mean to, because in the few moments he spent listening in, the squirrel he pissed off had apparently called more of his squirrel friends over, and there were now four of them in the bush with Steve, all yelling at him in whatever language it was squirrels spoke.

“Knock it off. Go away,” Steve hissed at them, only to be hissed at right back. They were getting angrier, even more agitated, two of them climbing the bush’s branches, causing the leaves to start rustling. “Will you stop that?”

“Is something wrong with that bush?” his mate’s voice asked, sounding concerned.

“Don’t worry about it,” Bruce assured him. “It’s just a couple of squirrels.”

“Squirrels? Are you sure? I’ve never seen squirrels act like that.”

“That’s because they’re a unique breed, native to this area only. _Sciuridae Stultus_ ,” Bruce said.

“Idiot squirrels?” his mate translated.

_Thanks Bruce,_ Steve thought, then wondered how his mate even knew that.

“Oh yes. Very common to these parts,” Bruce went on. “Don’t worry, you get used to them.”

“If you’re sure?”

“I am.” Even from a distance, Bruce sounded certain.

“OK…” his mate drawled. “Anyway, thanks for taking the time to talk to me. I appreciate it Doc.”

“I’ve told you before, it’s Bruce,” Bruce reminded him gently.

“I know, I know, but old habits, you know? Anyway, I should head back. You coming?” Which was probably the luckiest thing to happen to Steve all day, since there were now six squirrels in the bush, all glaring at him with their beady black eyes.

“Go away,” Steve whisper-shouted, waving his hands at them.

“In a minute. There’s something I need to check on first.”

“See you back in the theatre then. Just make sure to watch out for those squirrels.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s not me who has to worry,” was the last thing Steve heard Bruce say, before two of the squirrels jumped on his head, one bit him on the neck, one attacked his knee, its fellow Steve’s ankle, and the last one sunk its teeth through the leather of Steve’s boot and into his big toe.

Five minutes later, once the infamous _Battle of the Sciuridae Stultus_ was over, the squirrels victorious, Steve lay on his back on the ground, staring through the bush’s branches at the sunny sky, wondering how this was his life.

“Are you alright there, Steve?” Bruce asked, not having moved from the bench.

“You could have helped, you know,” Steve accused him.

“I could have,” Bruce agreed. “But the squirrels seemed more than capable of taking care of everything themselves.” He was a jerk.

“Thanks for that.”

“You’re very welcome.” Bruce’s voice never once shifted from its usual soothing tone. “Can I ask why were you hiding in a bush, eavesdropping on our conversation?”

“I wasn’t eavesdropping!”

“Of course you weren’t.” Somehow Bruce managed to sound exactly like his mother used to whenever she caught him in a lie.

“It’s just, it’s a very nice bush. I wanted to get a closer look.” Wow, he really was bad at this, wasn’t he?

“Of course you did,” Bruce agreed pleasantly.

“Anyway,” Steve sighed. He knew when to admit defeat. “I should probably get back to the firehouse, let you get on with your day.”

“Always a pleasure, Steve.”

“You too, Bruce.” Steve slowly climbed to his feet, dusting the dirt and leaves, but unfortunately none of his embarrassment, off the back of his pants as he straightened.

Only to have a pigeon shit on his head.

***

“You know what? I don’t even want to know,” Sam shook his head as he walked into the common room. Cint was once again curled up in a ball in the corner, laughing his ass off.

“I wish I didn’t know,” Scott said, applying antiseptic to the bite on the back of Steve’s neck.

“What the hell happened this time, Steve?” Natasha asked.

“Squirrel attack,” Scott answered for him. “And hold still!”

“What?” Sam and Natasha asked.

“Squirrel attack,” Scott repeated.

“You were attacked…by squirrels?” Sam blinked at him.

“Bruce called to let us know. According to him, there were five of them,” Luis added.

“Six,” Steve grumbled, angry at the world and all the squirrels in it. And also Bruce. _The traitor._ “It was six squirrels. And knock it off! That stings!” Steve tried to bat Scott’s hands away.

“Is that you or your pride talking?” Scott batted back at Steve’s hands and applied even more antiseptic.

“Why were you attacked by six squirrels, Steve?” Sam asked.

“Because he was hiding in a bush,” Luis said, which caused Clint to start howling in hysterics.

“A…bush?” Even Natasha sounded shocked by Steve’s stupidity.

“Well, you know, it was over twenty-four hours. The Watermelon Creeper was due to make an appearance.” Scott applied a band-aid to Steve’s neck and then started cleaning the bite on his hand.

“Just like your Tio Rico, right?” Steve decided at this point if he couldn’t beat them, and he certainly wasn’t beating anyone right now, not even a bunch of squirrels, he might as well join them.

“Oh no. Even my Tio Rico isn’t that dumb.”

“Steve, are you aware that you have,” Thor paused his amble into the room and sniffed the air. Because nature and fate really weren’t done laughing at Steve yet. “Bird shit in your hair?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to take a moment and say thank you to everyone who has commented or left kudos so far. Every time I post a new fic, I am always so surprised by how kind and supportive the Stucky community is. There were so many familiar "faces" as well as new ones, and it's both incredibly humbling and encouraging. You all are the absolutely best, and if I could I would leave watermelons on each and every one of your doorsteps. 🍉🍉🍉🍉


	4. Chapter 4

Bucky was almost never so relieved to get to the end of the workweek as he was today. He loved his job, he truly did, and he was coming to love his new home, all weirdness aside. But this week had been weird even by Lehigh’s standards.

First there was the watermelon left on his doorstep on Monday. Since he hadn’t ordered it, and didn’t have a birthday coming up, he knocked on all his neighbors’ doors, wanting to make sure none of them were expecting a delivery. No one knew anything about it.

The following morning there were all the hibiscus plants he discovered on the hood of his Honda Civic when he left for work. Bucky thought that was a strange way for the landscaping company to leave a delivery _– and why his car? Sheesh. -_ and spent the next five minutes placing three pots on each side of the walkway. Weird, but at least it made the entryway look nice.

Wednesday had been fine, although something must have happened, because when he went to lunch on Thursday, one of the lampposts on Privet Avenue was crooked, when he could have sworn it had been perfectly straight when he passed it the day before.

Then on Thursday, he somehow managed to knock over an entire shelf when he visited the library. He did not know how he did it, and was certain it was fine when he returned the book on kitten care, not what he was looking for, to its original place. Granted, it took a bit of extra effort to slide the book back where it belonged, but not too much. He hoped his left arm wasn’t malfunctioning somehow. It shouldn’t be; it was the most advanced prosthetic in the world, a prototype not yet available to the general public. It took him half a year to fully master its control, his brain having to adapt to the new neural interfaces. According to both Stark and Shuri, it should never malfunction, but maybe there was a glitch no one could have foreseen. If it happened again, he was going to have to call and schedule an appointment for a diagnostic. His yearly check-in wasn’t due for a few months yet, but he refused to risk something going wrong while assisting a surgery.

He also hoped he hadn’t upset Riley, the head librarian, too much. He was such a nice and friendly guy, more than willing to help Bucky whenever he was looking for something in particular or a new author to read.

It bothered him so much he even brought it up to Bruce during their usual Friday lunch in the park. But then there had been whatever was going on with that bush, and those supposedly native only to Lehigh squirrels. He didn’t care what Bruce said; squirrels did _not_ act like that, and they certainly didn’t make any noises that sounded like _shoo_ and _go away_.

It was just a weird cherry at the end of a very weird week, and Bucky was glad it was over. He was planning to sleep in and do nothing more strenuous, or weirder, than catching up with a few friends on FaceTime, starting a new book, some stargazing, and maybe taking his mountain bike out on a few of the local trails while the weather was still warm enough.

After he dealt with this one last bit of weirdness, i.e. the naked teenager standing on his balcony, waving at him.

Bucky sighed; at least he was used to this bit of weirdness by now.

“Sorry ‘bout that Peter. I was in the shower,” Bucky said as he unlocked and slid open the glass door. “Were you out there long?”

“Not too long.” Peter stepped inside while Bucky averted his eyes. “And I’m the one who should apologize to you, Mr. Bucky. I don’t mean to keep bugging you like this.”

“Happened again, huh?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah,” Peter sighed.

“Don’t worry about it, I told you before it’s not a problem. Just stay there while I grab you some clothes.”

“’Kay.”

Bucky met Peter and his aunt on the day he moved in. He’d been in the back of his moving van, reaching for his sixth box when from behind him a female voice said, “Here, let us help you with that.”

Bucky jerked, so surprised he dropped the box, turning around to find two people standing less than five feet away; a striking woman in her forties, and a lanky teenage werewolf who couldn’t have been a day older than sixteen.

“Jesus Christ!” he gasped.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the woman immediately apologized. “It’s just we saw you moving in from the window, and since we’re your new neighbors, we wanted to help.”

“No, no, it’s alright, just…give a guy some warning next time, won’t you?”

“Totally our fault,” she smiled at him. “And we really didn’t mean to scare you. I’m May Reilly,” she held out her hand to shake, “and this is –“

“You have a metal arm? That is awesome dude!” the kid blurted, his eyes wide.

“Peter!” May scolded.

“But look at it, Aunt May! It’s so cool!”

“That was still very rude of you, Peter. You know better than that.”

“It’s alright,” Bucky assured the both of them, smiling. While he tried as hard as possible not to think about the reasons why he had the prosthesis, even he had to admit it was pretty fucking cool. He was wearing short sleeves, since the day was warm, so it was on display. And from what he could see, the kid really was just curious.

“Can I touch it?” Peter asked.

“Peter,” May sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“It fine,” this time Bucky laughed. “And sure, go ahead.” Bucky held out his left arm so Peter could get a closer look at the black and gold metal plating.

“I’ve never seen anything like it. I didn’t even know they were making ones like this yet! Does it move just like your other one? How sensitive is it? And where did you get it?” As he rambled, Peter ran the tips of his fingers over the smooth surface, the neurotransmitters implanted in Bucky’s lower cervical vertebrae translating Peter’s touch into sensation, informing him that in spite of his curiosity, Peter was being very gentle.

“I’ve got a full range of motion, and it’s just as sensitive as my right. And it’s Stark Tech.” That’s all Bucky would, and was legally allowed to say.

“Stark Tech?” Peter’s eyes were practically bulging out of his head in excitement. “How did –“

“Enough Peter. Leave Mr…?” May trailed off, her voice ending in a question.

“James Barnes, but most people call me Bucky.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Bucky,” May smiled a sincere smile at him. “Like I said, we’re you’re new neighbors. We saw you moving in, and since moving is always a pain, we thought we’d help.”

“It’s nice to meet you too. And while that’s very kind of you, don’t worry about it. I can handle this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s what we do here in Lehigh, you’ll see. Now hand Peter that box, and give me the next one. The sooner we get this done, the sooner you can start unpacking,” she insisted.

It was the first time Bucky experienced the kind and inherently helpful nature of the citizens of Lehigh. And what would have taken Bucky several hours to accomplish on his own, the three of them together managed in one.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Bucky said, once he handed off the last box to Peter. “You didn’t have to help, but I do appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it. Like I said, it’s how we do things around here.” May’s eyes trailed after Peter as he disappeared through the small lobby’s doors. “And I’m sorry about Peter. He shouldn’t have just blurted that out about your arm. But he’s really into science, and I think he got excited.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky waved off her apology. “He was just curious. Can’t say I blame him. And he’s a good kid.”

“He’s a _great_ kid,” May said. “Been through a lot, but I couldn’t be prouder of him.”

“He started shifting yet?” Bucky asked.

“He told you that already?” May turned to face him, her eyebrows arching sharply.

No, no he hadn’t. And Bucky really shouldn’t have said anything. It was considered unbelievably rude to out a werewolf without their permission. In the past, it had been more than rude; it could mean the end of the werewolf’s life if anyone overheard. But well, Bucky had always been a bit weird himself, able to tell whether the person he was speaking to was were or not. In their human form, werewolves were indistinguishable from humans. Granted, they tended to be muscular and sleek, with striking features, and thick, healthy hair, the ultimate ideal of human perfection. It was another reason humans hated them throughout history, despising what in truth they ultimately craved. But there were plenty of beautiful humans in the world. The irony of the situation was, as stunning as werewolves tended to be, physical appearance was the least important factor when they were looking for a lover or partner. For them it was all about scent. If they liked how someone smelled, compatible in some way only they could define, their height, weight, skin color, gender or sexuality did not matter. As humans were also idiots, that acceptance was something else that pissed them off, another excuse they used, on top of the hundreds of others, to persecute werewolves.

Bucky was not a werewolf, did not possess their heightened senses, but all his life he had always been able to tell when someone was a human and when someone was not. Whenever he looked at a werewolf, even in their human form, there was a pale shimmer, the slightest aura, as if they carried the moon’s kiss with them wherever they went. It was not common, and Bucky had never encountered anyone else with the same “gift”. According to his mother, it was because they were descended from HYDRA, hunters who had been the bane of werewolves’ existence for centuries. They were gone now, thankfully, although their ideals lived on in certain circles. Most of the Barnes family was proud of their lineage, but it horrified and disgusted Winifred, and she made sure to pass on that horror and disgust, as well as her open-mindedness, to her two children. There were reasons why Bucky and Rebecca never shared Sunday dinners or spent the holidays with the rest of their family growing up, and even more reasons why Bucky absolutely refused to speak to any of them now.

Still, Bucky shouldn’t have said anything about Peter, and would need to be more careful in the future.

“Nah, he didn’t tell me,” Bucky shook his head. “But this is his eighth run up the stairs, and he’s not even outta breath. And I know he’s carried boxes that would’ve given me a hard time, so I just guessed.”

His answer seemed to satisfy May and she nodded.

“He just started a few months back. But he’s having a hard time getting control of it. It’s why I moved us here three years ago. I knew it was coming and I wanted him to be around other werewolves so he would be comfortable with himself, and get the help I knew I wouldn’t be able to give him.”

“Not many folks would have done the same thing,” Bucky was forced to admit.

“Yeah well, not many folks love their kids as much as I love Peter. I may not have given birth to him, but he’s _my son_ as far as I’m concerned.”

She was one of the good ones, May Reilly. A fact she confirmed the very next day when Bucky, taking a break from unpacking and lying on his back on the floor, wondering how the hell he managed to collect so much crap, heard a knock on his door. May was standing there when he opened it, a tuna casserole in her right hand, and a pile of take-out menus in her left.

“You shouldn’t have, May,” Bucky said a minute later, after he asked her inside and was setting the covered dish on his counter. “Can’t say I’m not grateful, cos I’m starving, but you didn’t have to go out of your way.”

“It’s no bother at all, Bucky,” she assured him. “And like I said to you before, I’ve moved a couple of times in my life, so I know what’s it like. Just wash the dish and bring it back to me when you’re done. No rush, but I’ll make us some coffee and give you the lay of the land.”

He had and she did, which Bucky could readily admit was a tremendous help. But more than that, they were nice people, genuinely friendly and kind, curious about their new neighbor but not invasive with it. He spent the past two months getting to know them and considered them friends. Probably a bit more than he should, considering he now knew what Peter looked like naked.

The first time it happened, Bucky nearly shit himself.

He’d just gotten home from work, trying to decide what he wanted to order for dinner, when there was a very deliberate _tap-tap-tap_ on his balcony door, and when he turned around saw Peter standing there wearing a sheepish smile, and absolutely nothing else.

“ _Jesus fucking Christ! What the fuck?_ ” Bucky was so shocked he dropped the menus he was holding, clutching his chest.

“Oh hey, yeah. Hello there Mr. Bucky. Sorry about that sir, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Peter said through the glass.

“Peter? What the hell are you doing on my balcony? And where the hell are your clothes?” Maybe his new neighbors weren’t such nice people after all.

“Yeah, um, sorry about that, but if you let me in, I can explain,” Peter said.

“Given that I’m a thirty year old man and you’re a sixteen year old kid, without any clothes on, in case you’ve forgotten, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Bucky covered his eyes with his hands, because seriously? How could Peter possibly explain this?

“Why not?” Peter asked. And _Jesus Christ_ , this kid. It was a miracle he’d made it to sixteen if that was his sense of self-preservation. Bucky was going to have to have a long conversation with May.

“Normal people just don’t show up on their neighbor’s balconies, Peter. And they especially don’t do it _naked!_ ” Bucky felt it necessary to remind him.

“They do here.”

_“What?”_ Bucky began to wonder if moving to Lehigh really hadn’t been his smartest decision.

“If you just let me in, I’ll explain, I promise,” Peter insisted.

“I still don’t think that’s a good idea.” Why the hell were they even having this discussion?

“Oh, OK,” Bucky could hear the sad sigh in Peter’s voice. “It’s just Aunt May isn’t home from work yet, and your light was on and I don’t have my keys.” _Obviously._ “And it’s starting to rain…” 

“Aaargh! Fine!” Bucky finally admitted defeat. “But you stay there. I’m going to get you a towel and some clothes. Once you’re dried off _and dressed,_ I’ll let you in and you can tell me what the hell you were doing on my balcony.” While he prayed no one called the cops on him. “And how on earth did you manage to even climb up there?”

“What that? That was easy.”

“Save it. I’ll be right back.”

“Thanks Mr. Bucky!”

The explanation, when it came, made absolutely no sense. Unless one was living in Lehigh. Which was a town with an unusually high werewolf population.

Werewolves didn’t start shifting into their second form until they reached puberty, when their changing hormones triggered the ability. But just because they could change, did not mean they could control it or were fully in synch with their wolves yet. That took time and a lot of practice. While they struggled with that, young weres also had to deal with the unpredictable bursts of emotion that also accompanied puberty, which made it even more difficult for them. Any strong feeling, from happiness to anger to fear or even a surprised giggle could initiate the transformation. When it happened, since they hadn’t fully fused with their wolf yet, something else that would only come with time and patience, the _canis lupus_ side was dominant. Thankfully wolves weren’t inherently violent by nature, which meant the caught off guard young werewolves tended to want to run, play, scuffle with each other a bit, and hunt, albeit usually badly from what Bucky understood. Once that initial burst of energy was over, their instincts insisted they find someplace safe, their dens, a.k.a. home, so they could shift back.

Peter’s wolf had come out to play, and when it finished doing whatever it wanted to do, it ran back to its den, like a good little werewolf. Except Aunt May wasn’t home, and not done causing mischief, Peter’s wolf decided to see if he could give his new neighbor a heart attack.

Peter’s first shift had occurred only two months ago, and while it was normally a cause for celebration within a werewolf family, Peter was having a very hard time learning how to control it, even for someone as young as him.

Which meant Peter had a tendency to show up at their building’s front steps completely naked. And now apparently Bucky’s balcony as well. He supposedly had a sponsor to help him through the experience, teach him techniques to improve his control and inner unity, but whoever the jerk was, he wasn’t doing a very good job. And Lehigh knew and understood this about their teenage population; someone at his school, or wherever he’d been when he’d last been standing on two feet, would have gathered his clothes and schoolbag, putting it aside and keeping it safe until he returned for it.

Peter explained all this to Bucky while sitting on his couch, wearing a pair of Bucky’s sweatpants and one of his old Blondie t-shirts, shoving handful after handful of Bucky’s Oreos in his mouth as if he’d never eaten before, while they waited for May to come home. Once he left, and Bucky remembered blinking was a thing his eyes needed to do, he initiated a FaceTime call to Gabe Jones, his best friend since their first semester of college, also a werewolf, who lived in Queens with his mate Jimmie.

“Yeah, that happens,” Gabe nodded when asked. “It’s practically impossible to control at first, and it sounds like the kid’s having a rough time of it.”

“It was weird. No offense Gabe,” Bucky shook his head. “But I almost shit myself when I saw him standing there.”

“It can be for you humans, I suppose,” Gabe paused to grin. “You should see the look on Jimmie’s face every time we go to mom’s for Sunday dinner and all my nieces and nephews are there.”

“Goddamned naked people everywhere!” Jimmie shouted from somewhere in the background. Bucky liked James Morita, also considered him one of his closest friends; he was a great guy and even better for Gabe. And the two of them were absolutely crazy about each other.

“I keep telling you, you should just join in,” Gabe called back. “No one would care, and you certainly have the bod for it.”

“And I keep telling you I’m going to replace your shampoo with Nair if you don’t shut up!”

Bucky laughed and Gabe’s grin grew even wider, before he turned his attention back to Bucky, his expression serious.

“Anyway Bucky, the kid wasn’t lying to you. It’s completely normal for us. Whatever you do, don’t make him feel bad or embarrass him about it. That’ll just make it worse, and it sounds like he’s already having a difficult enough time. He can’t control it yet and that’s not his fault.”

“Thanks Gabe,” Bucky smiled. “Anything else I should do?”

“Feed him,” Gabe instructed. “It takes a lot out of us, especially at that age, and food helps. Also, just be there for him, let him talk to you. It’s hard enough for us as it is, and just having someone else he can be himself around makes a big difference.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said again. “Will do. Now enough about me. What about you and Jimmie? How’s work?” Bucky spent the next hour and a half catching up with Gabe and Jimmie, promising he’d visit them soon, and insisting they do the same once he was a bit more settled in Lehigh. But when he went to bed that night, he had a much better understanding of what Peter was dealing with. Bucky’s specialization was in werewolf physiology, not psychology, and sometimes nothing was better than talking to someone who could share their own experiences and was willing to answer questions, even personal ones.

It took a bit of getting used to, and the next couple of times Bucky couldn’t help his startled yelp. But since it usually occurred at least two, and sometimes even three times a week, Bucky thought he was handling it pretty well, and was no longer surprised when a naked Peter Parker showed up on his balcony. Although he did wonder how he kept managing to climb up there. The kid must be part spider instead of wolf.

He still refused, _absolutely refused,_ to look at Peter until he was properly dressed though.

“How was school today?” Bucky asked once Peter was wearing another set of his clothes, patting his shoulder.

“It was good. Hiya Vimes!” Peter bent over and scooped up Bucky’s one eared, stubby tailed, orange tomcat into his arms. While unbelievably shy and fearful at first, the result of rough start as a stray and then over a year being overlooked by others in the shelter, with a lot of patience, understanding and respect, within a few weeks Bucky’s feline companion transformed into a twenty-five pound purring motorboat, a greedy little love sponge who slept on Bucky’s pillow and was more than happy to curl up in his lap whenever Bucky sat down. He was also pretty fond of Peter, greeting him with a happy little chirp whenever he visited, curling around his legs, demanding to be picked up.

“And science club?” Bucky watched as Peter kissed the top of Vimes’ head and rubbed his belly with smile.

“Great! We were looking at the sample slides from last week, and the bacteria on mine had the most growth,” Peter beamed.

“That’s great, Peter, congratulations.”

“Thanks! I got so excited I, well, you know,” Peter shrugged.

_Ah._ “Happens,” Bucky made sure to smile at Peter as he said it.

“Happens to me a lot,” Peter mumbled, burying his face in the fur of Vimes’ belly.

“And it’s not your fault,” Bucky reminded him.

“Still, I’m sorry to keep bugging you like this.”

“You’re not bugging me Peter, I’ve told you that,” Bucky insisted.

“You didn’t have any plans or anything, did you?” Peter asked.

“Nope,” Bucky shook his head. “In fact, I was just about to order dinner. What do you think? Pizza or Chinese food?”

“Pizza!” Peter answered instantly, any embarrassment he might be feeling quickly forgotten at the mention of food.

“Right, while I call it in, why don’t you decide if I’m going to kick your ass at Fortnight or Call of Duty tonight, your choice.” Bucky grabbed his mobile from the coffee table and swiped it on.

“Because you’ve been so successful so far,” Peter snorted. But he was already on his knees, digging through Bucky’s entertainment center for the controllers. Bucky watched him set everything up while placing the order, deciding at the last second to make it three, instead of two, extra large meat lovers pizzas. Peter was not just a growing boy, but werewolf, and he could put food away like nobody else Bucky had ever seen. While the person at the other end of his call repeated his order back to him, Bucky walked into the kitchen and picked up the bag of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies he purchased the other day, taking two for himself before dropping them on his coffee table, since he knew he’d never get any for himself otherwise, and sat down.

“Pizza should be here in thirty minutes. Prepare to have your ass handed to you while we wait.”

“Bring it,” Peter said around the cookie already shoved in his mouth.

“We’ll see.”

All things considered, it wasn’t the worst way to spend a Friday night. Truth be told, Bucky enjoyed spending time with Peter. He really was a good kid, friendly, funny and unbelievably bright. He was a science nerd, but then again, so was Bucky, so they had plenty to talk about. Bucky had even spent a few evenings helping Peter with both his AP biology and French homework, which Peter was always grateful for. Bucky made sure to ask him about his day, and Peter did the same with him, curious about Bucky’s work as a nurse and fascinated by the surgeries he assisted, no matter how bloody and invasive they sometimes were. Bucky told him he was more than welcome to borrow anything on his bookshelves, which Peter eagerly took him up on, and sometimes they spent hours just talking about books. He also helped Bucky clean up any remnants of their dinner without being asked, so he was polite and well-behaved too, in spite of the fact he cackled like a hyena whenever he beat Bucky at whatever game they were playing. Which, Bucky hated to admit, was always. Still a good kid though, and Bucky was happy Peter felt comfortable enough to laugh and joke with him.

So a pleasant evening and nice end to a weird week. Bucky even managed to eat three slices of pizza before Peter inhaled the rest, completely forgetting about the time, until he heard someone in the hallway.

“Hi May,” Bucky said as he opened his door just before she reached her apartment.

“Oh hi Bucky- _Oooph!_ Hey Peter.” May stumbled back when Peter threw himself against her, wrapping his arms around her with a happy “Aunt May!”

Werewolves were unbelievably tactile, relying on touch almost as much as scent to communicate with one another. Humans were usually nowhere near as tactile, with a tendency to view even casual touch as something sexual, when nothing could be farther from the truth for a werewolf. Weres tried to restrain themselves when around humans, and were always respectful of boundaries, but if someone lived with a werewolf they had to get used to being touched. It was how they said _You are pack, You are family,_ and _We are safe here_. It soothed and calmed them, reinforcing bonds. Gabe used to lean nearly all his body weight against Bucky when they were cramming for exams and he was stressed. After their first semester, when Bucky didn’t complain or shove him away, it progressed to Gabe sometimes lying halfway on top of Bucky whenever they were doing something as innocuous as watching a movie. Gabe later confessed to Bucky that his easy acceptance of that touch was how Gabe knew they were friends, and why he never requested a different roommate while in college.

Where Bucky would have blushed and attempted to shove his mother away with an embarrassed, _‘Geroff Ma! I’m not a baby anymore!’_ if she tried to hug him when he was sixteen, Peter had absolutely no inhibitions about hugging May whenever she came home. It was his way of telling her _I’m happy you’re here, I missed you_ and, most importantly, _I love you._ From the smile on her face and her returning embrace, it was obvious May felt the exact same way. It was also why Bucky touched Peter as much as possible whenever he was over; a pat on his shoulder, a nudging of his knee. That, more than anything Bucky could have said or how he may have smelled, let Peter know he was telling the truth when he insisted he wasn’t bothered by Peter being there. It instantly relaxed him, his breaths deepening, his eyes losing any worry or concern they may have held.

Bucky had to admit it was nice, not only to experience but witness, and he found himself adding his smile to the ones already on both Peter’s and May’s faces.

“Again, huh?” May asked, no condescension, only fondness, in her voice as she kissed the top of Peter’s head.

“Yeah,” came Peter’s muffled reply from where he had pressed his nose against May’s neck, taking a deep inhale to breathe her scent in, another comfort seeking gesture.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, letting Peter take all the time he needed.

“Mr. Bucky ordered pizza a few hours ago,” Peter said.

“So you’re probably starving by now,” May laughed.

“Yeah,” Peter admitted bashfully, finally lifting his head from her neck.

“All right, let’s get you inside. There should be some leftover chicken I can heat up for us,” May handed her keys to Peter. “And don’t forget to say thank you to Bucky.”

“Thanks Mr. Bucky. I had fun tonight.”

“Don’t mention it, Peter. And so did I,” Bucky told him.

“Seriously, thank you so much,” May added. “You don’t have to keep doing this, but we both really appreciate it.”

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind at all. He’s good company,” Bucky smiled at her.

“Thanks. You too, Mr. Bucky,” Peter said.

“Still, I should probably just give you a set of keys to the apartment so you’re not always stuck feeding him, but…”

But Peter was a werewolf and werewolves did not do well on their own, especially at his age when socialization was crucial for their mental health. May was doing her absolute best for Peter, but she was the office manager of the local construction company, and two of their employees were out on maternity leave, which meant lots of late nights while the firm covered for them. It made her feel better knowing someone was always there for Peter whenever he got home from school, no matter what form he was in. Bucky was more than happy to help.

“It’s fine, May. And it’s good for my ego when he kicks my ass at Fortnight.”

“Heh,” Peter chortled.

“Still...”

“Instead of keys, why don’t you just give me some of his clothes, so he’ll have something that fits whenever he comes over. He’ll probably be more comfortable that way,” Bucky countered. Bucky was half an inch taller than six feet, and one-hundred-and-eighty pounds of muscle. Peter was barely five-seven, just hitting his first growth spurt, at the awkward age where his hands and feet were too big for his body, and all gangly limbs. Whenever Bucky lent him something to wear, the poor kid looked like he was swimming in them. It was pathetic.

And kind of adorable.

“Good idea,” May nodded. “I probably should have thought of that sooner. How much do I owe you for the pizza?”

“Nothing,” Bucky told her.

“Bucky,” she frowned at him.

“Fudgeddaboutit,” Bucky used his best Brooklyn accent to refuse her.

“Fine,” she huffed. “But you’re coming over for dinner on Sunday night. And I won’t take no for an answer.” This was also part of Bucky’s new routine, a nice one, since May was an excellent cook.

“You got it. Should I bring anything?” Bucky asked.

“Just your company,” May said. They really were the kindest neighbors Bucky ever had. “Say goodnight to Bucky, Peter.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Bucky,” Peter waved at him.

“Wait a minute Peter, before I forget,” Bucky stepped into the hallway for the first time, closing the door behind him so Vimes didn’t get any escape ideas. “Tomorrow night, just after ten, Saturn’s going to be in the sky, closer than it’s been in years. I was thinking of getting my telescope out and setting it up on the roof. If it’s clear enough, we should even be able to see the rings. Would you be interested in having a look?” Bucky nodded at May so she knew she was also included in his invitation.

“Really?” Peter’s eyes were glittering with excitement as he glanced at May.

“I’ll bring snacks,” May was back to smiling.

“Can I invite Ned?” Bucky knew Ned was one of Peter’s closest friends from school, another science nerd. As well as all about MJ, the girl Peter had a huge crush on, and talked about even more than Ned.

“Sure,” Bucky agreed. “MJ too, if she wants.”

“I’m gonna go text -“ was the last thing Peter managed to say, before there was a bright shimmer of gold, and Peter’s two legged form was replaced by his four legged one, a russet colored adolescent wolf, struggling to free itself from Bucky’s sweatpants and t-shirt.

“I’ll make sure to wash these and get them back to you by tomorrow.” May bent over to help Peter out of the t-shirt.

“Thanks. ‘Preciate it.”

“Good night, Bucky.”

“Night May. Night Peter.” The last thing Bucky saw before he closed his door was Peter’s wagging tail as he licked May’s face.

“Stop wiggling Peter! You know that only makes it worse.”

They really were nice people. Still weird, but nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🐺🐺🐺


	5. Chapter 5

“So, with that last issue taken care of, is there anything else we need to discuss before we call it a night?” Maria asked, looking around the table.

They had finally reached the end of that night’s bi-weekly city council meeting, and were all tired. But there were a lot of issues they needed to review and vote on, so the session had run long. Their woman’s shelter was proving to be a resounding success, and based on the results they wanted to build a second one, but this time to serve homeless LGBTQIA teens from other nearby cities and towns. It infuriated everyone in Lehigh, but especially Steve, that there were so many vulnerable kids living on the streets simply because their parents could not accept their children for who they were. Discarding a member of one’s family, one’s Pack, simply because of who they loved or how they identified themselves went against everything in a werewolf’s nature, and it was long past time they took action. The motion passed unanimously.

Since traffic was also becoming a concern, they were looking for ways to improve their public transportation and encourage Lehigh’s residents to cycle or walk more, particularly the humans.

Lastly, they discussed tourism. Lehigh was by no means a travel hotspot, but they did have a healthy, if relatively small, amount of visitors each year. It was usually werewolves and their families looking to relax around their own kind, or hikers and campers who were interested in the surrounding forests and trails. But the numbers had been steadily increasing, and they were wondering if this was something they should encourage. It would definitely be a boon to all the restaurants and small shops, as well as the two hotels Lehigh boasted. But there were concerns, and rightfully so, that too much attention would be bad for their city. Steve could easily recognize how the extra funds would be nothing but a blessing, but he had no interest in turning Lehigh into a place where hoards of human tourists, pretend scholars and anthropologists showed up to ask rude, judgmental and frankly intrusive questions about werewolves and how they lived. Or to be the newest hotspot for a bunch of Instagram influencers disrupting their lives with their cellphones and cameras so they could post about _Their Wild Weekend with the Weres!_ That was not and never would be what Lehigh was about. They couldn’t come to any decision about it today, and decided to shelve it for now and come back to it at a later date.

Steve always attended these meetings, no matter how long they lasted, along with the rest of his Pack. While Maria Hill, a human, was an excellent mayor, sharp, intelligent and no nonsense, someone whose judgement Steve trusted completely, no motion could be approved without his agreement. But before he made any decision, he wanted to hear his council’s opinion on the matter, their views on any facts he may not have considered before he made up his mind. He would meet privately with Maria at the beginning of next week to review the notes, and discuss any other details they may not have gotten a chance to, but for now, after the week he’d had, he was just glad the session was over. He was really looking forward to going home.

“There is,” Sam raised his hand.

_Uh-oh._

“Yes Sam? And what’s that?” Maria asked while everyone turned their gazes to him. Everyone except for Steve, who slouched in his seat, and Clint, who, of course, was giggling. How long had his now _former_ friends been planning this?

“We need to talk about Steve and his mate,” his ex-best friend said.

“No we do not!” Steve blurted.

“We most certainly do, Steve,” Sam cut his eyes to Steve. “Or have you already forgotten the watermelon.”

“Or the way you flower bombed his car,” Natasha said.

“The milkshake incident,” Scott added. Now it was an _incident?_ “You know, when you almost gave yourself a concussion and knocked over a lamppost.”

“I didn’t knock it over! I just dented it…Slightly.”

“Then there was the library,” Sam went on.

“I said I was sorry!”

“And let’s not forget the squirrel attack.” _Et tu, Bruce?_

“When the pigeon shit on his head.” And thanks, thanks a lot Thor.

“Ah yes, J.B. Barnes,” Maria said, neatly folding her hands on the table.

“Wait a minute,” Steve stared at her. “ _You knew?_ ”

“Steve,” Maria glared at him. “I may not be a werewolf, with your sense of smell, but I _am_ Lehigh’s mayor. Do you think I don’t know everything that goes on in this town?” Steve could only scowl at her. “Right, so, Steve’s mate. What do we know about him so far?”

“Not much,” Gamora, Lehigh’s sheriff, and a damned good one at that, spoke for the first time. “At least me and none of my officers have had any reason to deal with him yet.”

“Which is definitely a check in the plus column. How long has he lived here?” Maria asked.

“He moved into old Mr. Roth’s place nine weeks ago,” Natasha answered. Because of course she would know that.

“Anything else of note?” was Maria’s next question.

“According to Riley, he’s a hottie, by human standards anyway, who likes to read,” Sam said.

“Anything you want to add to this discussion, Bruce?” Maria wanted to know, as all eyes shifted from her to Bruce.

“No,” Bruce said in a very quiet but firm voice.

“No?” Maria appeared taken aback. “Are you certain about that, Bruce?”

“Very,” Bruce said in the same tone.

“Can I ask why?” Maria pressed. “Since this is for Steve, I thought you’d be happy for him, as he was the one who gave you a second chance when you first moved here.”

“I am very happy for you, Steve,” Bruce nodded in Steve’s direction, removing his glasses. “And I hope you know how grateful I am for the opportunity you gave me to prove myself.”

“I do,” Steve smiled at him. “And you’ve more than earned it. You’re the best surgeon and Health Commissioner Lehigh’s ever had.”

“Thank you,” Bruce acknowledged with a small smile, a true indicator of how pleased he was, before turning back to everyone else. “But this isn’t about Steve.”

“It most certainly is,” Maria argued.

“No, it’s not,” Bruce countered. “It’s about James and his right to privacy as he tries to build a life here.”

“Is there a reason why he moved to Lehigh to do that?” Natasha pressed.

“Whatever his reasons are, they’re his and his alone, until he decides to share them with anyone else,” Bruce answered.

“Has he shared them with you?” Natasha could be relentless, no matter what form she was in.

“I’m not answering that.” Bruce could be just as stubborn.

“Your non-answer is still an answer,” Gamora jumped in.

“Whatever I do or do not know, I still don’t feel comfortable discussing it with you,” Bruce was undeterred. “I’ll say it again, James has a right to his privacy, just like everybody else living in this town.”

“He’s going to be our _Alpha’s_ Mate. Don’t you think we have a right to a little curiosity?” Maria asked.

“Of course you do,” Bruce agreed. “But that doesn’t mean you get to go behind his back just because of it.”

“You can’t give us a little hint?” Sharon, Lehigh’s School Chancellor, spoke up for the first time. “It’s for Steve after all. After everything he’s done for Lehigh, for every single one of us sitting at this table, doesn’t he deserve our help and support?”

“It is only fair, Bruce,” Thor said. Even Clint stopped giggling.

Bruce sighed, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, which he used to start cleaning his glasses. “I will tell you this. His name is James, but he prefers to be called Bucky –“

“Bucky?” Clint smiled. “That’s cute.”

“He’s speaks five other languages aside from English,” Bruce ignored Clint.

“Five? Really?” Natasha asked.

“Which he’s already used to help us at the hospital,” Bruce ignored Natasha as well.

“How so?” Scott asked.

“He’s hardworking, kind and devoted to helping others, and really cares about his patients,” Bruce went on. “Lehigh was lucky to get him, since I know plenty of other surgeons who would be happy to snatch him up, if they got a chance. But for some reason, and yes, I know those reasons Natasha, and no, I am not telling you, he decided to move here, and that’s all you’re getting from me. But I will say this,” Bruce paused to put his glasses back on, “if whatever you decide to do costs the hospital the best damned surgical nurse we’ve ever had, I’m going to get very, very angry. And trust me, you’re not going to like it if I get angry.”

“Well,” Maria said after a moment of everyone’s continued silence, during which Steve’s wolf kept repeating _Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, his name is Bucky and I will lick him and lick him and then he will rub my belly, rub my belly, rubmybelly!_ “Thank you, Bruce. That was certainly a good starting point. We can take the rest of it from here.”

“Oh dear god,” Bruce moaned into his hands.

“Wait a minute! What?” Steve jerked free from his interior _BuckyBuckyBucky_ chant at Maria’s words.

“Don’t worry about it, Steve,” Clint patted Steve’s shoulder. “We got your back. In fact, I’m sure the entire pack’s going to want to help.”

“That’s an excellent idea, Clint,” Maria agreed. “I’ll put the word out.”

“What? No! Don’t put any word out!” Steve furiously shook his head.

“It’s for your own good,” Scott said.

“I am not Cassie!”

“And you could certainly use the help,” Sam muttered.

“No, no, no,” Steve shook his head some more. “I don’t need anybody’s help. What Bruce’s said is already more than enough.”

“Do not worry Steve,” Thor smiled at him. Steve did _not_ like the look of his smile. “It is a quest. A worthy one that will live on in legend. It is our honor to assist you in it, and with us by your side, nothing could possibly go wrong.”

Steve was very, very worried.

“Oh dear god,” Bruce said again.

***

Bucky thought he was getting used to life in Lehigh. That after two months of living here, he was adapting to its rhythms and moods, developing routines of his own, growing comfortable enough so its weirdness was just a shading in the background of the painting of his everyday life.

He couldn’t have been more wrong. Apparently Lehigh had just been biding its time, waiting for him to relax, before it let loose and revealed to him just exactly how weird of a place it was.

Because naked teenagers showing up on his balcony all the time or not, shit was getting weird. Really, really, _really_ weird.

It started on Monday, when he stopped in _The Beanie Bean,_ a coffee shop with a silly name, but the best dark roast in Lehigh, for an expresso and scone before heading into work, and a woman he never saw before walked straight up to him, running her eyes over him from head to toe.

“So, you’re James Buchanan Barnes, Lehigh’s newest resident,” she said in a curt, sharp voice. As sharp as her features, navy pantsuit, neatly styled dark hair, and brown eyes.

“Yes. And you are?” Bucky asked.

“Maria Hill, Lehigh’s mayor.” She held her hand out.

“Oh. Oh, hi. Nice to meet you.” She had a firm grip when Bucky shook her hand, confident and steady. She was studying him, scrutinizing his features, until she finally let go and took a small step back.

“Do you vote?” she asked.

“Do I what?”

“Do you vote, Mr. Barnes?”

“Yes, I vote.”

“In every election?”

“I try to.” Bucky supposed it made sense she was asking him this; she was a politician after all.

“That’s good,” she nodded. “Lehigh encourages all its citizen to perform their civic duty. It’s important to us that everyone’s voice is heard.”

“That’s…great,” Bucky squinted at her.

“What is your opinion on Lehigh’s policies so far?” she asked next.

“I like them?” Bucky really couldn’t handle this before his morning expresso.

“Are you sure about that, Mr. Barnes? You don’t sound so sure,” she pressed.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Excellent. Which ones?”

_Oh Jesus. Why him?_

“Your community center, outreach programs for the elderly, and the town’s belief in universal healthcare,” Bucky was able to supply. “Oh, and the library. The library here is great.”

“Thank you. That’s good to know,” she nodded. “I’ll be sure to pass that along.” Then she turned on her heel and walked away.

“’K…Bye?” Bucky called to her retreating back. He really hoped this wasn’t a sign about how his week was going to go, because after the last one, he really needed a lot less weird.

***

It did not get any less weird as the days progressed.

“Do you like meat?” Mr. Huang asked that very night when Bucky went to _The Golden Lotus_ , his favorite Chinese food place, to pick up the order he called in before leaving work.

“Do I what?” Bucky blinked.

“Meat,” Mr. Huang nodded. “It’s the most important part of any meal. Especially here. You should always make sure you have a lot of meat in case company comes over. It’s very important.”

“Yeah, sure, important.” Bucky liked Mr. Huang. He was very friendly and always chatted with Bucky about his day whenever Bucky stopped by his restaurant. But they never had a conversation about meat before.

“So you should order more ribs,” Mr. Huang stated.

“Nah, not today Mr. Huang. I’m not in the mood for ribs today,” Bucky smiled at him.

“I make the best spareribs in all of Lehigh. The best. All the important people agree. They’re their favorite, and you wouldn’t want to not have enough if they came over, would you?”

“Can I just get my order? Please?”

“Order more ribs! It’s for your own good!” Mr. Huang slammed his hand on the countertop.

“Fine, fine.” _Whatever._ Bucky just wanted to go home at this point. “I’ll take an order of ribs.”

“Six!”

“What?”

“Six orders. At least that many. You don’t want them to starve, do you? That would be rude.”

“Fine, six orders of ribs,” Bucky sighed. Hopefully Peter would be waiting on his balcony when he got home. The ribs should be enough to tide him over until dinner.

***

_“Wassuuuuuuuuuup!”_

Oh god, now what?

_“Wassuuuuuuuuuup!”_ Luis said again when Bucky didn’t say anything. “You know, like that old commercial?”

Bucky didn’t really know Luis, not well anyway, although their paths had inevitably crossed at the hospital. He and his partner seemed like nice enough people, and they were very good at their jobs. But Bucky was wondering why Luis chose now, of all times, to initiate a conversation when he never had before.

“Hey Luis,” Bucky said instead. “How’s it going?”

“Good man, really, really good,” Luis smiled at him. Bucky didn’t trust that smile. It was creepy. “So I was talking to my friend Javier, who was telling me about his cousin Connie, who has a friend named Mirabel, who was dating this guy Rosco, and what kind of name is Rosco? It sounds like a dog’s name, right? But anyway, according to Javier, according to Connie, Mirabel was all like _‘Yo, this is it man, this is love, I’m going to marry this hombre and we’re gonna have babies!’_ ‘Cept it turns out this Rosco dude was cheating on her, and with another dude too, so are you gay?”

Bucky could only stare at him. “ _What?”_

“Dudes, dudes, you’re into them, right? Wanna rub up all against them? Blond ones?”

“Oh my god Luis! What the hell are you doing now?” Scott, Luis’ partner, asked, suddenly appearing out of nowhere.

“Nothing man, just getting the four-one-one. Trying to help out _el_ _jefe,_ you know?” Luis said.

“Don’t mind him,” Scott turned to Bucky to say. “He was dropped on his head a lot as a kid, but he’s mostly harmless.”

“That’s cold bro. It was only twice.”

“Anyway, you having a good day today, Bucky?” Scott ignored Luis.

“It’s been a bit weird, but not bad,” was all Bucky could say.

“Good,” Scott said with a smile and a nod. A beat passed, and then another, and then… “And are you?”

“Am I what?” Bucky asked.

“Gay? And into blonds?”

Sometimes Bucky really regretted giving up smoking.

***

Bucky was gay and into blonds. Really, really into them. What could he say? _Gentlemen preferred blonds_ and all that. That didn’t mean he was only attracted to blonds; he’d slept with plenty of men, both human and were, in the past and their hair or eye color was his least important consideration whenever he was looking for a good time. Blonds had, however, always caught his eye, warranting a second and oftentimes third glance. But for some reason Bucky could never understand, no matter how nice or funny they were, there was always something just the bit…he didn’t want to say _off_ or _wrong_ about them, but more as if they weren’t the _right_ blond, for reasons he was unable to define.

Then again, none of them were _this_ blond, this stunning hunk of a werewolf, with shoulder length hair braided at his temples, and a gleam in his eyes simultaneously wicked, mischievous and curious.

Bucky was not a short man, but even he had to tilt his head back to meet this delicious were’s gaze. He had broad shoulders and arms rippling with muscles, and long, strong thighs Bucky wanted to feel wrapped around his head. Yet for as big as he was, he didn’t loom, and moved with a silent grace, managing to somehow sneak up behind Bucky that evening as he did his weekly grocery shopping.

“You are the Bucky, yes?” his voice boomed directly over Bucky’s right shoulder, causing him to jerk, nearly squashing the plum he’d been holding, and spin around.

“ _Jesus fucking Christ!_ ” Bucky gasped, dropping his basket; thankfully he hadn’t gotten around to picking up any eggs yet.

“I am sorry, I did not man to startle you,” the were grinned, “But you are the Bucky, yes, the one now working in the hospital?” His words were laced with an accent Bucky recognized as Norwegian.

“That’s definitely me,” Bucky desperately tried to remember how to flirt.

“Good, good, that is good,” he nodded. “I have been looking for you.”

“Well, here I am,” Bucky managed to regain his composure and smile. If this were had been looking for Bucky, he was more than happy to be found. He’d seen him around Lehigh before; he was hard to miss. Bucky didn’t know his name, but he did know he was one of the town’s firefighters. He was usually accompanied by his team, all of them fellow werewolves, and each just as striking in their own way. But this firefighter had always stood out, even among his fellows, the most beautiful man Bucky ever laid eyes on. Except for one of his teammates, another blond, somehow more gorgeous, if that were possible, with even shinier hair and golden skin, and shoulders Bucky wanted to climb and cling to like a monkey, never letting go.

Bucky wondered if Lehigh’s fire department ever considered releasing one of those calendars, with their members shirtless and their skin gleaming. Bucky would be more than happy to come home and wank to that, every single day of the year.

Bucky’s thoughts must have been evident on his face, or his smell changed, indicating his arousal, because this huge, hulking, _maybe I should toss Vimes up into a tree just so I can call the fire department_ , werewolf sniffed the air, recognition flickering across his features, his expression growing apologetic.

“Ah, no, you misunderstand me,” he began. “While I am truly flattered, as I must admit you do smell quite delicious, you are not for me. And I have my Jane. Ours is a love written in the stars, destined to be and unlike any other.” Damned werewolves and their sense of smell, and being able to tell what a person was thinking. Or feeling.

In their pants.

“Right. Sorry ‘bout that,” Bucky bent over to pick up his basket. As he straightened, Bucky swore he could just barely make out giggling from the next aisle over, followed by a _“Oh my god, this is great!”_ and _“Ssh, ssh, let me hear this,”_ and _“I swear…as bad as…”_ and then finally _“…better not find out…make it worse…kill…”_ Then Bucky remembered his earlier conversation with Luis and Scott, and couldn’t help but wonder if this was somehow their idea of a joke. Bucky felt his mood sinking the same time a blush rose on his cheeks.

“It is quite all right. And I am certain you would be quite the tasty morsel were our circumstances different, but they are not,” the were went on.

“Uh-huh,” Bucky turned his back on him and went back to picking through the plums. Speaking of morsels, they all looked plump and juicy, and he was having a hard time deciding how many to buy.

“Do you like plums, the Bucky?” Why hadn’t he gone away yet? As good as werewolves were at reading scent, shouldn’t they also be as good as understanding body language? Bucky was embarrassed, and after the day he had, he just wanted to finish his shopping and go home. But his momma had raised him better than that, and would yank his ear if she saw him being so rude.

“I do,” Bucky admitted.

“That is good to know,” the man was nodding when Bucky looked back at him. “What else?”

“What else what?” Bucky asked.

“What other foods do you enjoy partaking of? Our supermarket is a fine establishment, with an abundance of items to choose from,” he waved his arm at the entirety of the produce section. “Do you not agree?”

“I do,” Bucky had to admit. “It’s got a great selection.”

“So what else does the Bucky enjoy eating?”

Seriously? They were going to talk about food? This was why he’d been approached?

“Um…I like fruit?” Great. Lehigh’s weirdness must be contagious. Also, the giggling hadn’t stopped. What the hell?

“Which ones?”

“Uh…Strawberries, blueberries, grapes. Apples, peaches and pears. Cantaloupe too.”

“And watermelon?” Oh jeez, what was it with this town and watermelon?

“It’s alright, I guess.”

“That is good, that is very good,” the man nodded. “Anything else?”

“Anything else what?” Bucky asked.

“Anything else you like to eat, or have discovered you enjoy in your time here?”

“The brownies are really good?” Bucky blurted the first thing he could think of.

“Yes, yes they are. I have enjoyed them many a time myself. Our Jackie is an excellent baker.”

Bucky was about to say screw it, put his basket down and go home when the werewolf smiled at him again, and with one last nod said, “Thank you, the Bucky, that is exactly what I needed to know.”

“You’re welcome?” Bucky said, but it was to the air. The werewolf was already walking away, not once bothering to glance back. Bucky thought he might have imagined the entire encounter if not for the fact that just as the man turned the corner, Bucky heard his voice boom out:

“I have excellent news! He likes fruit and brownies, and seems to have an erotic attraction to plums!”

_Fuck this._ Bucky was going home.

***

“No,” Bucky said, shaking his head. “Now go away.”

It was a big wolf, about the same size as Gabe when he was in his second shape. But unlike Gabe, whose fur was a rich, deep, dark beautiful brown, this wolf was lighter, tawnier, and a bit disheveled, making Bucky wonder if, whoever he was, when in his human form his hair was unkempt. His teeth were bared, but he wasn’t snarling; in fact if anything, with the way his tongue was lolling, it looked as if he was smiling at Bucky. He was crouched low, his belly brushing the ground, and had been slowly inching his way closer and closer to Bucky over the past ten minutes, ever since Bucky sat on his usual park bench to eat his lunch.

Bucky did not like the way the wolf was eyeing his pizza.

“I said no,” Bucky repeated. “Now shoo and let me eat in peace.”

The werewolf crept another inch closer, his tail wagging. Where the hell were those _Sciuridae Stultus_ when he needed them?

“Look, I’m not kidding, I had two back to back surgeries this morning, and another one scheduled for this afternoon. I just want to eat my lunch in peace, OK?”

Another inch, close enough Bucky could have reached out and touched him. If it didn’t mean letting go of his slice of pizza.

“No!”

At that exact instant, the wolf lunged forward. But he didn’t attack. Instead he leapt onto Bucky’s bench, licking his cheek, slobbering all over him.

“ _Gack!_ ” Bucky jerked back in surprise, scrunching his face. ‘Cos werewolf spit – _gross!_ By the time he was done wiping the drool off his skin, the werewolf was long gone.

Along with Bucky’s lunch.

“That stupid werewolf stole my pizza!”

“Yeah, that happens around here,” a jogger said with a shrug on their way past.

***

It wasn’t just the weirdness, or well _extra_ weirdness of the past couple of days Bucky could not help but notice. It was something else, something he couldn’t identify, an intangible shift Bucky felt whenever he left his apartment.

Bucky thought he was doing well, hoped Great Uncle Arnie was smiling down at him from wherever he was, as Bucky moved into the retirement condo he’d left him in his will and worked on making the old man proud of him. Bucky was trying his best, he really was, and there were no words to express how grateful he felt, especially after everything he needed to overcome to make it this far. He thought he was adapting, proving he had things to contribute and give back to his newly adopted community. But something had changed, and he had no idea why.

Everyone had been so welcoming at first, friendly and curious, but in a polite way, always respecting Bucky’s privacy. People would smile and nod at him in the street, and as his face grew more and more familiar, ask him about his day.

But now whenever he went anywhere, they stared at him. If they were a werewolf, they made no effort to hide the fact they were scenting him, deep inhales followed by puzzled expressions. Werewolves did sniff someone whenever they met them; it was the equivalent of a human asking your name and holding out their hand to shake. But it was considered rude to do it to a human stranger without their permission, and if they did do it, they were supposed to be discrete. But they weren’t bothering to hide the fact they were, and Bucky had no idea why. Since moving to Lehigh, Bucky stopped using any colognes or his favorite apple shampoo. He didn’t even apply aftershave in the mornings anymore. So what was it about his smell that appeared to bother them?

The humans were even worse.

While previously there had been smiles and nods, now they just flat out stared. There were still the smiles and nods, but recently there were also frowns, squints, and on more than one occasion scowls. And just like the weres, they didn’t hide the fact they were doing it. They also talked about him, not seeming to care if he could hear them or not.

“Him? Really? That’s the one?” Bucky overheard one woman say while he was waiting in line for his morning expresso.

“Supposedly,” her companion, also a female, answered.

“He’s not even that good looking.”

“Yeah, well, no accounting for smell, I suppose.”

“Maybe he’s got bacon in his pants.”

“I thought you tried that already, and it didn’t work.”

“I was getting close, I could tell. It would’ve worked if _he_ hadn’t shown up.”

“I dunno, I hear he’s got a weird thing for plums, so you might still have a chance.”

Bucky ignored them, picking up his order and walking out. People could be assholes, no matter where they lived, and he supposed every town, even a town as small and closely knit as Lehigh, needed someone new to gossip about every now and then.

It happened again at the pet store, when Bucky stopped by to purchase some food for Vimes. He was looking at some furry mice he thought Vimes would enjoy pouncing on when he heard the murmurs.

“It’s such a shame, you know? It’s always the good ones.” The voice was once again female, younger than the previous one had been, but it sounded frustrated.

“You know that’s not how it works around here, especially with them.” This time her companion was a male.

“No, I know, but still… _Him?_ I heard from Brenda he can’t even cook, is always ordering take out all the time. What good is he if he can’t even cook?”

“Maybe he’ll get fat.”

“We can hope, right?” the woman snickered. “It could only help.”

“At least he’s a nurse. That means he’s always wearing one of those masks.” Then they both laughed.

That’s when Bucky grabbed the nearest packet of mice he could reach, and decided it was long past time for him to get out of there.

But the worst, the absolute worst time, was just as Bucky was leaving the library, happy to finally get his hands on a copy of N.K. Jemisin’s newest release, and a young man stepped directly in front of his path, forcing Bucky to stop. He was of average height, and thin, with piercings in his lip and ear, and a pride pin on the strap of his messenger bag. He looked to be of college age, and was glaring at Bucky.

“Can I help you?” Bucky asked.

“You just had to ruin it for the rest of us, didn’t you?” he snapped.

“Excuse me?” Bucky said, confused.

“Why’d you have to come here and ruin everything? You’re not even from Lehigh. We actually appreciate our werewolves here, and know how to take care of them. You should just go back to where you came from.” With that, the guy sneered, turned around and stomped off, leaving Bucky standing there with his mouth hanging open, wondering what the hell just happened.

It hurt, even if he was a stranger, and Bucky wondered what he’d done to piss so many people off so suddenly. It also made him miss his mother and sister, desperately so, especially his mom. She might have been considered unconventional by some, but she’d always been so supportive of Bucky, working hard to do her best for her children, and instilling her sense of kindness and acceptance into both Becca and him. She hadn’t even blinked when he told her he was gay, just hugged him, then showed him how to use a condom before bringing him to Great Uncle Arnie’s house so he could talk to someone who understood exactly what Bucky was going through.

It probably also didn’t help that October sixteenth was growing closer and that always affected his mood.

If that weren’t enough, there was now the constant sense that no matter where he went, he was being watched. Even on his morning runs, usually the best part of his day. There was a stillness to the surrounding woods as he ran along the trails, a quiet they hadn’t possessed before.

Bucky was no fool, and knew the Adirondacks were a big reason why Margaret Carter established Lehigh where she did. Anyone who liked to hike, camp or run in the forests knew they would be sharing it with the local weres. But the werewolves usually made sure to let any humans know if they were nearby so they weren’t startled if they came across one, and it seemed as if, in this part of the state at least, there were no problems sharing, especially since so many of them were friends and family.

But someone, some _were_ , was definitely stalking him, unseen, watching him from a distance, following his every move, and it made the back of his neck itch.

The feeling carried over even when Bucky wasn’t in the woods, and more than once Bucky could have sworn he glimpsed a flicker of blood red hair out of the corner of his eye, only to turn around and see no one there.

Something was definitely going on. Hell, even Bruce was starting to look at him strangely, always with a worried crease between his eyebrows, as if there was something he wanted to say but was restraining himself. Bucky hoped it didn’t have anything to do with his job; whatever was going on in Lehigh, Bucky was making sure it didn’t affect his performance, and he knew he was good at what he did. With everything else over the past two weeks, his job was one of the few bright spots in his days. Well, his job, along with Vimes, May and Peter.

Peter was always more than happy to spend time with Bucky, it seemed, wanting to talk about his day and what he learned, or in this particular case, what Bucky had in his hands.

“Peter, can you get the balcony door for me?” Bucky asked him as he returned to the living room.

“Sure thing, Mr. Bucky,” Peter jumped off the couch and unlocked the door, sliding it open. “Why?”

“See for yourself.” Bucky un-cupped his hands to reveal the small spider crawling over his palm.

“Oh cool,” Peter breathed. “Achaearanea tepidariorum.”

“What?” Bucky asked.

“American house spider,” Peter explained. “Pretty common around these parts.” Peter glanced at his face. “You’re not going to kill him, are you? They’re harmless!”

“Because that’s exactly what I was going to do after asking you to open the door,” Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Oh, yeah, right. Guess so,” Peter laughed quietly. “Can I hold him?”

“Sure.” Bucky tilted his hand so the small spider could crawl onto Peter’s fingers. “Found him in the sink when I was in the bathroom.”

“He’s cute,” Peter lifted his hand closer to his face so he could stare at his new friend.

“If you say so,” Bucky patted Peter’s shoulder. “Now let’s get him outside before Vimes sees him and decides he’s dessert.”

They spent the rest of the night talking about spiders, Peter telling him everything he knew about all the species native to the area, which Bucky really didn’t need to know. Bucky also found himself wondering if there wasn’t a degree in arachnology in Peter’s future. But Peter was extra tactile that night, sitting closer to Bucky than usual, reaching out to grasp Bucky’s wrist whenever there was a fact he thought very important, his eyes always on Bucky’s face. He must have been able to smell Bucky’s mood, the tinge of sadness and worry he’d been feeling lately, and was trying to reassure Bucky in his werewolf way.

He really was a great kid.

His mood must have been so obvious even May commented it when she got home from work, as they were saying their usual goodnights.

“Are you OK, Bucky? You look a little down,” she asked him, after she waved Peter inside their apartment in an obvious attempt to give them some privacy.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Bucky said.

“Are you sure?” May may not have been a werewolf, but she was a perceptive woman, and could tell he was lying.

“It’s just been a weird couple of weeks, that’s all.”

“Anything you want to talk about?” she offered.

“I just…” Bucky paused and sighed, taking a moment to put his feelings into words. “I’m starting to wonder if moving here was a mistake,” he admitted for the first time. “If I shouldn’t have stayed in New York instead.”

“What? Why? I thought you were happy here, liking it so far,” May said.

“I was, but…I dunno, people have been acting really strange around me lately. Even heard a few of them saying some not so nice things, and I can’t help think I’m doing something wrong,” Bucky shrugged.

“Are you serious?” she looked surprised. “People aren’t usually like that around here.”

“I dunno,” Bucky shrugged again. “It’s just a feeling I’ve been getting.”

“That can’t possibly be it Bucky, you’re an absolute sweetheart,” May refuted. “And if there was a problem, Steve or one of his Pack would have spoken to you about it by now.”

“Steve?” Bucky asked.

“Lehigh’s _Alpha_ ,” May clarified. “He’s very direct, and big on second chances. He’s not obnoxious about it, but trust me, if you were doing something wrong he would’ve let you know by now.”

“If you say so,” Bucky sighed again. “I’m probably just imagining it anyhow.”

“Do you want me to ask around? It’s been real busy at work lately, but I’m sure if I asked, I could find out if there’s anything you need to be worried about.”

“Nah,” Bucky shook his head. “Like I said, I’m probably just imagining it.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I am.”

“Well, I hope you know by now my door is always open if you need someone to talk to,” she smiled at him. “And I make a great pot of coffee.”

“I do,” Bucky smiled back at her. “And you sure as hell do. Thanks May.”

“You’re more than welcome. Have a good night Bucky.”

“You too, May. Say goodnight to Peter for me.”

“I will.”

They really were the best neighbors in the world. And hopefully May was right, and Bucky was simply reading things wrong. But as he settled into bed that night with his new library book, Vimes curled up in his lap, Bucky couldn’t help his sinking suspicion things were going to get a lot worse before they got better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just so you know, because tomorrow is a certain someone we all love's birthday, there might, just might be an extra chapter this week. 😘😘😘


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: There is a single use of an ableist slur during this chapter, and I wanted anyone reading this to be aware so you can prepare and protect yourselves however you need. Please take care of you. **hugs**
> 
> Also, this is probably the angstiest chapter in the entire story, but I still hope you enjoy it.

All concerns aside, and there had been plenty, Steve was reminded that when the folks living in Lehigh set their minds to something, there was nothing they couldn’t accomplish. Over the past two weeks both his pack and Pack really came through for him, and he now knew more than he previously did about his mate. _(Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, BuckyBuckBuck – I’m going to lick him, lick him SO HARD, and then he will rub my belly, rub my belly, rubmybelly!)_

According to Maria, he was civically active, voted in elections, and supported all Lehigh’s policies, which Steve was certainly glad to know.

He also thought _The Golden Lotus’_ spareribs were the best in town, Mr. Huang proudly informed Steve when he went to pick up his dinner, which was also good, since Steve loved those ribs, making sure to order extra whenever he stopped by.

Bucky _(BuckyBuckBuck!)_ thought Luis was a bit weird, per Scott, but so did everyone else. Steve hoped Bucky _(BuckyBuckBuck!)_ could also see, in spite of that, Luis really was a good guy, who would do anything for his friends.

Luis also thought, but couldn’t be sure, that his mate might be gay and into blonds.

Fortunately, or unfortunately per his wolf, Thor was able to confirm Bucky _(BuckyBuckBuck!)_ , from the way his scent changed when Thor approached him, was at least bisexual and most certainly into blonds. _(Grrrrrr Thor. Bucky mine! Not yours, MINE!)_

And that he had a weird infatuation regarding plums. Which, OK, yes, was a bit on the strange side, but Steve was certainly not going to kink-shame him for it. Steve could work with plums.

Clint was more than happy to let Steve know that Bucky _(BuckyBuckBuck!)_ enjoyed sausage and pepperoni pizza. Since Clint burped as he told Steve this, his breath smelling suspiciously like the aforementioned pizza, Steve had his suspicions as to how exactly Clint knew this.

It was Natasha, as usual, as always, who provided Steve with the most useful information. According to her, Bucky _(BuckyBuckBuck!)_ did a three-mile run on Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings, and went to the gym to work out on the other two days of the week. He usually stopped at _The Beanie Bean_ for an expresso and scone before heading to the hospital, and was polite and friendly to all the servers, always leaving a generous tip. He wasn’t a smoker, tended to either walk or bike most places instead of using his car, didn’t seem to have any issues with werewolves, which was definitely a plus given he now lived in Lehigh, and was remarkably observant regarding his surroundings. He did like fruit, yes, but other than that didn’t seem to do much cooking of his own, in the habit of ordering take-out, or stopping someplace after a long day at work to grab something to eat.

Which, she informed him with a tug on his arm, was exactly what he was doing right now.

“How do you even know this, Nat?” Steve asked, blinking at her.

“Lena texted me,” she answered. “He just showed up and ordered some dinner. From what she says, he really likes their burgers. She’s going to take her time getting it ready so you can have your chance. If we hurry, we can catch him while he’s still there,” she insisted, dragging him along.

“Wait a minute,” Steve planted his feet, noticing the rest of his Pack gathering their jackets. “What do you mean, _we?_ ” In spite of his greater height and weight, he was unable to resist her incessant tugging. Natasha was a lot stronger than she looked, even for a werewolf.

“Did you think we were going to let you do this alone?” Clint asked.

“We are your Pack, Steve, of course we would be there to support you during this momentous occasion,” Thor agreed.

“And you could certainly use the help,” Sam stated flatly.

“I’m just in it for the shits and giggles,” Luis added.

“I’m coming along, because knowing you Steve, there’s going to be bloodshed,” Scott said, wrapping his scarf around his neck. It was October, and it was starting to get a bit chilly in Lehigh, especially once the sun set.

“No, no, no!” Steve shook his head. “Thank you guys, for everything, but seriously, I can take it from here.”

“Yes Steve,” six voices chorused back at him.

“Now c’mon,” Natasha yanked his arm again. _Hard._ “We don’t have much time.”

***

It had not been a good day.

Truth be told, it had not been a good week, Lehigh continuing to do its best to get under his skin like sandpaper and rub his nerves raw. But today was by far the worst day Bucky experienced since moving here. The worst day he had in quite some time, and one he could not wait to see the end of.

It started off with Vimes leaving a huge hairball on his sheets, which fair enough, he was a cat after all, and cats did puke. It wasn’t his fault.

As a result of having to clean up the mess, Bucky left the house later than usual and was only able to get a thirty-minute workout in, instead of his usual hour. Bucky really needed that work out too. His least favorite day of the year was less than a week away, and working out was one of the few things that helped clear his head. And for as rushed as it was, there were still the now constant stares and whispers from his fellow gym goers, both human and were, more scratches on his hypersensitive skin.

As if that weren’t bad enough, sometime between his arriving at the gym and then leaving, it started to rain, and Bucky didn’t have his umbrella. He needed to dash into _The Beanie Bean_ for his usual expresso and breakfast, and of course the bacon woman was there, her intentionally loud commentary on the state of his appearance another prick to his nerves. He’d been tempted, so tempted, to snap at her, but that would have only reduced him to her level, and given his morning so far, he didn’t need the bad karma.

If only he’d known.

In his rush to work, hoping to get there on time, he cut through the park, over the grass, and slipped on a damp patch, spilling scalding coffee all over his shirt. Wanting nothing more than to go back to bed and start the day over, he pressed on, managing to change into his scrubs and clock in with barely a minute to spare.

And still, still, he would have traded everything that happened that morning if it meant it would have prevented that afternoon.

Bucky wasn’t the only one caught off guard by that day’s rain. Sometime in the afternoon, just outside of town, there was a horrible accident, when a truck slipped on the wet roads and piledrived into a sedan. The truckdriver was fine, miraculously unharmed, but the car’s passengers ended up in Lehigh General in extremely critical condition.

It was a mother and daughter. The mother ended up being seen to by Dr. Cho, and the daughter, a young woman no older than eighteen, ended up in the operating room under Bruce’s care, with Bucky assisting. They tried everything they possible could to save her life. Bucky had never seen a surgeon’s hands work as quickly as Bruce’s, absolutely relentless in his determination to undo what had been done. But the damage was too extensive; bones shattered, organs ruptured, and blood everywhere.

She flatlined within fifteen minutes, and Bucky had been the one to call the time of death. The mood was somber after that, silent and heavy, as they closed up her body, disconnected the IVs and turned off all their equipment in preparation for transport to the morgue.

It happened. No matter how brilliant or skilled the surgeon and his team, patients died on the operating table. If one worked in the medical field it was something they had to learn to deal with. It was never easy, but it was an unfortunate aspect of Bucky’s profession. And Bucky had lost patients before.

But this patient, this woman, she was so young, with her entire life ahead of her.

And she had been killed in a car accident, just like…

Just like…

And she had curly red hair…and freckles…

Just like…

Just like…

Even worse, if there could be a worse, the driver had not survived either. The girl’s mother’s heart gave out before Dr. Cho could make her first incision.

Just like…

A day of death and failure, and Bucky once again unable to do anything to prevent it.

When he was finally able to leave the hospital, after filling out the required reports, it was with a heavy heart and leaden limbs. He wasn’t hungry, but hadn’t eaten anything all day, and knew he needed something or he would only feel worse, so he changed back into his coffee stained and still damp clothes, and trudged through the rain to _The Blue Moon_ diner. They served a great burger, and were usually kind to him. Lena, the owner and a werewolf, seemed to have taken a liking to him, ever since he’d been there the day one of her waitresses, Joyce, took a nasty slip, cutting her hand, and he looked after her, calming her down and wrapping her cut, before personally escorting her to the hospital for stitches. From that day on, Lena always beamed whenever he entered, doubling his portions at no charge. He could use that kindness today, a friendly face, especially after the last twelve hours.

But the day wasn’t done with him yet, far from it.

The air was heavy and thick with the overwhelming scent of grilled meat and frying potatoes when Bucky entered, which usually made his mouth water. Lena greeted him as she always did when he arrived, giving him a minute to remove his jacket, his left arm on display, and settle at a table, before coming over and taking his order. Once she departed, Bucky leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, waiting for his food.

That’s when it started; the whispers and giggles. Bucky could not make out what was being said, but he still knew they were talking about him. And his heart, already battered and beaten from the day he’d had, clenched in a painful knot beneath his sternum. _The Blue Moon_ was usually a safe space, one of the few places left where people didn’t stare, sniff or talk about him behind his back. But apparently that had changed, and on today of all days, when Bucky desperately needed a bit of respite.

It only got worse when the door opened, and a new group of customers walked in. There was a sudden hush, followed by even more whispers, as whoever it was made their way inside. Bucky cracked open his eyes to see Lehigh’s fire department casually strolling in, the entire beautiful pack of them, happily chatting with one another as they sat at a table not too far from Bucky’s own. Bucky sighed and closed his eyes again, hoping their presence would be enough to distract everyone else so he could scarf down his food and head home, putting this day behind him.

He had no such luck, and several minutes later, while waiting for his food, which usually came much quicker than this, and a few overheard _‘Go on,’_ and _‘Do it,’_ and _‘I swear to god, if you don’t say something about it now, I will,’_ along with even more giggles, Bucky felt a shadow fall across his table. Opening his eyes, he looked up (and up, and up) and saw a tall werewolf standing there, staring at him.

They had never met before, but Bucky knew this werewolf. He was the most beautiful man, human or were, Bucky had ever seen. Tall, broad shouldered, with a gorgeous face, hair of liquid gold, and the most striking pair of blue eyes imaginable. Bluer than turquoise, than a Caribbean Sea, than the sun’s kiss goodbye just before she sank below the horizon. An endless, endless blue, the color of hope, of promise, of homecoming.

Even his aura was different; not the wispy thing he usually perceived when staring at another were, but incandescent and rich, as if he were the Moon’s favorite child, to be kept forever in her loving embrace no matter where he went.

At any other time, Bucky would have been more than delighted to see him standing there. But it had been a shitty day, a really shitty day, and all Bucky wanted was to be left alone.

“Hello,” the werewolf said. His voice was low and deep, a rumble that would have normally been soothing, if Bucky’s nerves weren’t already rubbed raw.

“Hello,” Bucky said back, wondering what he wanted.

“My name is Steve. Steve Rogers.”

_Ah._ So this was Lehigh’s _Alpha_ , the one everyone went on and on about. That explained his size, as well as the endless complexity of his aura.

“Would you mind if I sat down, for just a minute?…I’d like to talk to you.” As if Bucky could refuse a request from the _Alpha_. Then he remembered what May told him, how Steve would be the one to talk to him if there were any problems. Given his day, he had no doubts whatever Steve was about to say was not going to be pleasant. A fact confirmed when his companions began to whisper and giggle amongst themselves.

“So,” Steve said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. For all his size, he moved with an amazing grace, settling himself comfortably in his seat. At least until he shuffled the chair closer to the table, and its legs squeaked on the floor. The giggling grew louder, and Steve scowled. Bucky waited, for his food, for Steve to say whatever it was he planned on saying. For the guillotine of the day to finally fall.

_“Oh god, just get on with it.”_

_“Seriously.”_

_“This is painful.”_

_“I can’t look. Tell me when it’s over.”_

_“This is so horrible it hurts.”_

_“Ssssh!”_

Everyone, even Lena, was watching them, the weight of their gazes equal to bugs crawling over Bucky’s skin.

Steve cleared his throat. “So, um,” Steve glanced from Bucky’s face, to over his shoulder, back to the table, finally coming to rest on Bucky’s left arm. “You have a metal arm.” More giggles in the background.

“I do.” It took all of Bucky’s will, what little was left of his composure, which wasn’t much, not to growl. One did not growl at an alpha and expect to come out of it with your throat intact.

“It’s – it’s very shiny,” Steve went on, to another burst of snickers and even more whispers, especially from the table not too far from theirs.

_“Shiny?”_

_“Oh hello, it’s nice to meet you. You have a shiny arm?”_

_“Yet he speaks the truth, does he not?”_

The damn burst, what little remaining of Bucky’s self-control shattering, the wave of the day bursting out of him, not caring what was destroyed in its wake. Bucky was done, one hundred percent, absolutely fucking done, and alpha or not, Lehigh or not, if its residents thought it perfectly acceptable to make fun of something beyond someone’s control, they could shove their weirdness, their stares, their whispers and snickers and all their self-righteous existences up their asses.

“Look,” this time Bucky did growl, rising to his feet. “I get that I’m the new guy, all right? And that I probably don’t understand how things work around here. And yeah, I have a metal arm, and it’s very, very _shiny._ ” Bucky sneered as he stepped back from the table, so he could address the entire room, now suddenly silent. “I also have a lot of scarring too, which is something else you wouldn’t understand, since you all won the DNA lottery and are perfect and beautiful.”

“No, Bucky wait –“ Steve had also risen to his feet, and was holding his hands out. But Bucky was on a roll, and after today, after the past couple of weeks when he was forced to swallow his pride and grin and bear it in an attempt to fit in, nothing was going to stop him. Not even this alpha.

“But let me tell you something else. Human or werewolf, it’s a really shitty thing to do to make fun of someone for having a prosthesis. Especially when that prosthesis is what lets me do my job and live my life.” Bucky glanced at the counter, where Lena was staring at him wide-eyed, before turning his attention to the table where the rest of the town’s firefighters were clustered, not a single giggle or whisper between them.

“But you go ahead, go on and make fun of the _cripple_ with the metal arm for shits and giggles if it makes you feel better.”

“Woah-woah-woah,” one of them finally spoke for the first time, a man of color, and just as striking as his companions. “That’s not –“

“We weren’t. We wouldn’t –“ a second one, with light brown hair and eyes, shook his head.

“Of course you wouldn’t. Because I wasn’t sitting right here, and didn’t hear you myself,” Bucky cut them both off. “But you know what? I don’t care who you are or what you think is so funny. Lie to yourselves all you want, but it’s fucked up, and I don’t have to put up with that shit from anyone. You weres are always going on about acceptance and letting people live their lives in peace,” Bucky reached into his back pocket for his wallet. “Maybe you should start practicing what you preach.”

“Bucky…” Steve said again. If Bucky cared, had the energy to spare, he might have wondered how Steve knew his name, paid more attention to the look on his face, considered apologizing for insulting the _Alpha_ and his pack. But they insulted him first, and Bucky was too tired to care.

“I’m done,” Bucky shook his head instead, tossing two twenties on the table before glancing at Lena. “Sorry for wasting your time, but I’m not hungry anymore. And don’t worry, you won’t see me here again. Now you all have a good night and enjoy the rest of your dinner.”

With that, Bucky grabbed his jacket and stormed out of _The Blue Moon_ for the very last time.

***

_“Jesus fucking Christ! Are you fucking kidding me with this shit today?”_ Bucky couldn’t help his snarl when he finally made it home, only to be greeted by a now very familiar _tap-tap-tap_ on his balcony door. “Seriously, Peter?” At least the kid was dressed this time.

Instead of stepping inside with a bashful smile like he usually did, Peter lurched back as if Buck slapped him. Which, Bucky realized, he just had, even if hadn’t done anything other than slide open the glass door.

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Bucky, sir.” Peter’s head was lowered and his shoulders drawn in, dejection in every inch of his lanky frame. “I don’t mean to keep bothering you like this, and I won’t do it again. If you just let me through, I’ll go wait in the hall for Aunt May.”

Bucky felt like an absolute shit. Peter wasn’t to blame for the day Bucky had; he’d just shown up on Bucky’s balcony like he normally did, expecting Bucky to do what _he_ normally did, and invite him inside. And what had Bucky done? Made him feel horrible and ashamed for something beyond his control, the exact same thing he just experienced. He really was an asshole sometimes, and Peter deserved better than to have to deal with Bucky snapping at him for no reason. Peter was a teenager, and Bucky the adult in this situation; it was time for him to start acting like it.

“Look Peter, I’m really, really sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that, and I apologize. Of course you’re welcome here,” Bucky stepped aside to let Peter pass.

“Then why did you?” Peter asked, still hesitant, still unsure of his welcome.

“I had a really shitty day,” Bucky sighed. “A really, _really_ shitty day. But that wasn’t your fault, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m sorry. Now come in out of the rain, please.”

Either his words or his scent were convincing enough, and Peter stepped inside, his eyes still watchful.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Peter offered. And this kid, this kid, he was such a great kid, kind and generous. Bucky was sure his parents, wherever they were, were proud whenever they looked down at him.

“That’s sweet of you Peter, but you really don’t need to hear me bitch about my day. I’m sure you’ve got other things you’d rather talk about,” Bucky shook his head.

“Why not?” Peter asked from the couch, Vimes already in his lap. “It’s only fair. You let me talk about my day all the time, and never complain about it.” And god, this kid. “I’m sure it’ll help.”

“It’s just,” Bucky sighed again, admitting defeat and sitting on the opposite end of the couch. “Things have been really weird lately, which is fine, I’ve dealt with that before. But then today…”

“Then today?” Peter urged when Bucky trailed off, an inch closer than he’d been when Bucky first sat down.

“Then today,” Bucky bit his lip. “Today just fucking sucked. One of those days, you know? Vimes puked all over the sheets this morning, and I had to clean it up, so I was late. Then it was raining and I didn’t have an umbrella and I spilled coffee all over myself on my way to work.” Bucky gestured at his stained shirt. “Then something happened over on Route 28, and the patients were brought into the hospital, and I was assisting Dr. Banner, but the patient, she…she didn’t make it.”

“Oh,” Peter murmured softly, another inch closer. 

“Yeah, oh,” Bucky said just as softly. “And she was young, Peter, really, really young, and we tried everything we could. And sometimes it happens, you know, and there’s nothing you can do about it. But she was young, with red hair and freckles, and she looked…she looked just like Becca.” Bucky paused, needing to swallow. “And normally I could have handled it, but she looked just like Becca, and October sixteenth is just five days away…”

“October sixteenth?” Peter asked, his hand reaching out.

“It’s the anniversary of the accident.”

“Oh,” Peter gasped, his eyes wide with understanding.

There were only three people in Lehigh who knew about the car accident that killed Bucky’s mother and sister. Bruce, May and Peter. And Peter, more than anybody else, could empathize with the pain it still caused Bucky, the endless, endless ache of loss and regret. He’d lost his own parents to a plane crash when he was nine, then his Uncle Ben to a mugging gone bad three years later. He was only sixteen-years-old, but he’d already experienced more than his fair share of loss.

“And if that wasn’t bad enough,” Bucky continued, unable to stop now he’d started, “I was at _The_ _Blue Moon_ , wanting a burger, because I hadn’t eaten all day, and these assholes showed up, a bunch of werewolves, no offense, and they started laughing at me and making fun of my arm.”

_“They did what?”_ Peter asked, his eyes now wide with outrage.

“Yeah.”

“But your arm is so cool! And that’s a shitty fucking thing to do,” Peter agreed with his sentiment.

“You’re right, it is,” Bucky chuckled. But it was a sad and hopeless sound, defeated; even he could hear that it was. “And I said as much to them, before I stomped out of there. The worst of it is, I didn’t even get to eat my hamburger. I just wanted a fucking burger, you know?”

That was the last thing Bucky got the chance to say before Peter’s nostrils flared, breathing in the sent of him, Bucky’s sadness and heartbreak, the truth of his words, before he reached out and pulled Bucky into his arms, hugging him. Peter was a skinny kid, all long legs and arms, with thin ropey muscles. Bucky was half a foot taller and probably twice his weight, but the kid was strong, his embrace fierce and all encompassing.

Not only that, but he was making a rumbling sound deep in his throat, the rumble weres used to soothe one another, that he now made because Bucky was in pain and Peter was doing his best to comfort him.

If that weren’t enough, almost more than Bucky could stand, and certainly more than he deserved for the way he snapped at him, Peter was also baring his throat. Not in an act of submission, but because that was where his scent was strongest, and he was offering it in another gesture of companionship and understanding. Werewolves only ever did that to people they trusted, cared for, and here Peter was, making that offer to Bucky.

It was that, more than anything else, that brought tears to Bucky’s eyes. This kid, no, this young man, was all kindness and generosity. Everything Lehigh was supposed to stand for, and what the world definitely needed more of.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Bucky. I’m so, so sorry,” Peter said between rumbles.

“Thanks,” Bucky sniffed. “And I’m sorry I snapped at you. You didn’t deserve that.”

“You had a shitty day,” Peter comforted him. “It’s OK. I probably would have done the same.”

“Didn’t mean you deserved it though,” Bucky repeated.

“Eh,” Bucky felt Peter shrug. “You apologized, and you meant it. That’s all that matters.”

“You’re a better man than I am, Peter.”

“Just remember that when I’m kicking your ass at Call of Duty,” Peter said, causing Bucky to laugh for the first time that day. Bucky was just about to take him up on his challenge, when there was an urgent knock on his door.

“Oh Jesus, now what?” Bucky groaned, pulling away from Peter and rising from the couch to answer it. Really, what was next? Jehovah’s Witnesses?

But it wasn’t Jehovah’s Witnesses standing there when he opened the door. It was Steve, his expression serious, his hand raised for another knock. And what little comfort, what little equilibrium Bucky managed to reclaim all blew away, both his stomach and heart plummeting at the sight of him.

“You forgot your dinner,” Steve said softly, easily holding up two large paper bags in one hand, while Bucky just stood there, staring at him.

“Is this…is this one of the people who made fun of you, Mr. Bucky?” Peter stammered from Bucky’s living room. When Bucky glanced back, Peter was kneeling on the couch, eyes wide, nostrils flaring. Bucky didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to; from the way Peter’s expression darkened, it was obvious his scent was saying it for him, his pain and humiliation ripe in the air.

“No, we -” Steve shook his head, lifting his other hand, but that was all he got the chance to say before in the very next second Peter leapt from the couch and cut in front of Bucky, placing himself between the two of them, Bucky at his back.

_“You need to leave,”_ Peter growled. And OK, it may have sounded more like a guinea pig caught in a vacuum cleaner, but it was still a growl. And his chin was raised, not in an act of submission, but challenge, his eyes narrowed as he glared at Steve.

Peter was challenging him. Peter, who was sixteen years old, and could barely control his shifts, was challenging Steve, not just an alpha, but _The Alpha_ , Lehigh’s _Alpha_. Steve, who was even taller than Bucky, and made of solid, rock-hard muscle.

It was obvious Peter was frightened, knew it was a match he couldn’t possibly win; Bucky didn’t need a werewolf’s sense of smell to know it. He could see it in the tightness of Peter’s spine, the way his muscles were trembling. Steve had to see it too.

But Peter didn’t back down, keeping his chin raised and fists clenched, while never ceasing his squeaky growls. He was crazy for doing what he was doing and Bucky was not going to let him fight his battles for him.

“Peter, it’s OK, don’t worry about it,” Bucky placed his hand on Peter’s shoulder in an attempt to pull him back.

“No, it’s not,” Peter shrugged him off. “He was a jerk to you, and now he’s only making it worse. He needs to leave.”

“Peter,” Bucky tried again.

“That’s not –“

“You’re only making it worse,” Peter reiterated, cutting Steve off. “Can’t you smell it? You need to leave.”

At that, Steve froze, glancing between the two of them; at Bucky, staring in shock, and Peter, a growling puppy who was challenging a wolf, but refusing to back down.

A second later Steve sighed, closing his eyes and nodding his head, conceding the fight.

“You’re right,” he said softly. “And I’m sorry. I never meant to upset you, either of you, it’s the last thing I ever wanted to do. I’ll go. But at least take the food. Lena was horrified when you left before it was ready, and she wanted me to make sure you got your dinner.” Steve carefully placed the bags at Peter’s feet, then straightened, and with a final nod at the both of them, smiled sadly, before he turned around, and walked to the end of the hallway and down the stairs.

Bucky watched Peter watching him go, his body still locked into a fight pose, until Steve disappeared from sight. It was only then that Peter allowed Bucky to pull him inside and close the door.

“Jesus Christ, Peter. What the hell was that?” Bucky asked, still confused by what he just witnessed. “What on earth came over you?”

“He was upsetting you,” Peter said. “I could smell it. So I had to.”

“Peter, that was Steve. The _Alpha_. He could’ve killed you for doing what you did!” Bucky doubted Steve would have seriously hurt Peter; Peter was very young after all. But still, very few werewolves ever challenged their _Alpha_ and walked away from it unharmed.

“But you’re Pack,” Peter now looked as confused as Bucky felt. “And he hurt you. So, _Alpha_ or not, I had to.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re Pack,” Peter said again.

“Yeah, but so is all of Lehigh, so I don’t see what the difference is.”

“You’re not getting it,” Peter shook his head.

“So explain it to me,” Bucky urged, gesturing to the couch when Peter just stood there. “Please.”

“There’s pack, and then there’s _Pack._ ” This time when Peter said it, Bucky could hear the capital P.

“I still don’t understand,” Bucky frowned.

“A pack is a pack,” Peter began, sitting on the couch.

“And Lehigh’s a pack, right?” Bucky asked, carrying the bags to the coffee table.

“Right,” Peter nodded. “Lehigh’s a pack. And everyone who lives here is part of it. And it’s a good one, where everyone tries to help everyone else, because a pack knows it’s only as strong as its weakest members, and that’s how we let everyone know they’re a part of it, because that’s what you’re supposed to do.”

“OK,” Bucky sat down next to Peter. “But how’s that different from a Pack?” He made sure to emphasize the word the same way Peter had.

“A pack is a pack, but Pack is different,” Peter stated as if that made any sense. “Pack can be a part of a pack, but they’re the ones you’re closest to, your _family._ It can be small, but that doesn’t mean it’s not important. It’s the most important thing, even more important than pack. That’s why you have to take care of them, defend them when they need it, even if it’s against the _Alpha_ , because you love them, and that’s what Pack does.”

“And I’m…I’m part of your Pack?” Bucky asked, blindsided by Peter’s words, his heart aching.

“Of course you are, Mr. Bucky,” Peter stated as if this was something Bucky should have known, when he had no idea. “You and Aunt May and Ned, you’re all part of my Pack. And you were upset, hurting, I could smell it. So of course I was going to defend you. Because you’re Pack, and that’s what Pack does.”

_Oh Jesus._ This kid, _this kid._ And up until that moment, Bucky had no idea that a heart could break, not from pain, but love.

“Peter, come here.” It was Bucky’s turn to pull Peter into a hug, because after everything he did tonight, he sure as hell deserved it. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“Aunt May tells me that all the time,” Peter laughed.

“Because you are,” Bucky squeezed him once, before letting go to smile at him. “I can’t believe you actually challenged Steve, the _Alpha_. Do you have any idea how much balls that took?”

“I know!” Peter crowed, before his face fell, his eyes growing wide. _“Holy shit!”_ _Ah_ , now it was hitting him. “I challenged the _Alpha_. I’m going to be in _so_ much trouble.” He hunched over, burying his face in his hands.

“Do you want me to talk to him? Explain how it wasn’t your fault?” Bucky reached out with his right hand to rub soothing circles onto Peter’s back. It was the least he could do. This was not Peter’s battle, and he never should have gotten involved in the first place. But Peter was still young, and with youth came impulsiveness. And Steve _was_ supposedly very fair. Bucky was sure whatever Steve’s issue with him was, he wouldn’t take it out on Peter.

“No, no,” Peter squeaked, shaking his head. “But oh my god! _Aunt May’s gonna kill me!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday to our beloved Bucky Barnes! \o/ \o/ \o/
> 
> And just so you know, in the next chapter, which will be posted on Friday, Steve finally gets his act together and starts acting like the Alpha and Mate he's meant to be. 😉😉😉


	7. Chapter 7

“Peter, can I talk to you for a minute?”

It was time for Steve to take action. After the horrifying disaster of Friday night, the situation had spiraled completely out of his control, and Steve, disgusted and aghast at his own behavior, spent the weekend ignoring the texts and calls from the rest of his Pack, choosing to focus instead on how he could possibly begin to fix things. He’d made a huge mistake, several of them actually, and as the _Alpha_ , it was his responsibility to set everything right, before it became even worse. He still had no idea what he was going to do about Bucky, his wolf strangely silent on the matter, but he could start here, by talking to Peter.

“Um, me?” Peter squeaked, his scent betraying his fear. It was yet another tally in Steve’s mistake column; no pack member should ever fear their _Alpha_ , should trust and believe in them instead, feel free to come to them with any problems they may be experiencing. But that’s what Steve was here to change.

“Yes, you,” Steve forced himself to smile. “It’ll only take a few minutes. Now c’mon,” he tilted his head in the direction of his truck, parked twenty feet away.

“Do you want us to wait for you, Peter?” one of his friends asked, Mary Jane, Steve thought, a human who moved to Lehigh with her mother and werewolf stepfather a few years ago. It was courageous of her, Steve couldn’t help but think, to make sure Peter knew he wasn’t being abandoned. As it was of Ned too, who was also standing there, a bit more wide eyed than she was, his sweat tinged with nervousness, but still offering Peter his support. Peter must be one hell of a person to have friends as steadfast as these.

“It’s OK,” Peter shook his head, willing to bear the brunt of whatever the _Alpha_ had to say since he was the only werewolf among them. He was certainly brave, with a hell of a lot of chutzpah.

“We won’t be long,” Steve promised them. “Now come on Peter, there’s something I need to talk to you about.” Steve turned and started walking, making sure to keep pace with Peter so they were side by side, instead of Steve leading the way.

“Am I in trouble?” Peter asked, his shoulders high, fingers clinging to the straps of his backpack, once they reached Steve’s truck. Steve unlocked the bumper and leaned against the edge of the bed.

“For what?” Steve asked, keeping his posture loose and open. He didn’t want to intimidate, just talk.

“For Friday night,” Peter glanced up at Steve, before lowering his eyes. “When I, you know, when I challenged you.”

“Ah, yes, that,” Steve smiled. “When you challenged me.” Steve could easily hear Peter’s swallow. “Can I ask you something? And be honest, OK?” He waited until Peter nodded. “Did you mean to do it?”

Peter chewed on his lip, obviously debating his words, before he nodded again, a quick jerk of his head.

“Can I ask why?” Steve pressed.

“Because…because…” Peter took a deep breath, gathering himself and looked up at Steve. “Because Mr. Bucky is a really nice guy, a _really_ nice guy, and he had a really shitty day. And he said that you – that you and your Pack laughed at him, made fun of his arm, which is a really crappy thing to do, sorry _Alpha_ , but it is. Because his arm is cool and it’s not his fault he has a prosthesis and you shouldn’t make fun of people for things like that. But then you showed up, and it made him feel worse, I could smell it, and I had to.”

Steve sighed; it was even worse than he thought, and he really had no idea how to begin fixing it.

“And you were protecting him because he’s part of your Pack,” Steve finished for him.

“Yeah,” Peter exhaled with another nervous nod.

“It took a lot of guts to do what you did, Peter,” Steve said.

“What?” Peter asked, finally lifting his head to meet Steve’s gaze.

“A lot of guts. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“But I was terrified!” Peter blurted, his eyes wide in disbelief.

“I know you were. I could smell it.” It was Steve’s turn to nod. “But you still did it anyway. I’m your _Alpha_ , and almost twice your size. There was no way you were going to win if it came to a fight between us. But you still stood up to me when you needed to, because it was the right thing to do, because you were protecting your Pack.

“You did the right thing, and that takes a lot of courage, a tremendous amount, and I just wanted to let you know how proud I am of you.”

“Oh.” Peter blinked, and then blinked again. “Really?”

“Yes really,” Steve smiled at him. “Not many people, human or werewolf, would have done the same. You did the right thing, and this pack is better, stronger, because you’re a part of it.” Peter reminded Steve of his younger self, quite a bit actually, and Steve wanted to encourage those parts of him, just like both Steve’s mother and Peggy had encouraged him.

“Oh,” Peter said again, his shoulders lowering, his spine straightening. Challenge or not, all werewolves reacted well to praise from their _Alpha_. It was a part of who they were.

“Yeah, oh.” Steve reached out and patted his shoulder, sharing his scent, a friendly gesture of approval. “Good job, you.”

“Thanks,” Peter smiled, and then straightened even further. And there, there was the young werewolf Steve came face to face with Friday night. “Why were you and your Pack laughing at him? It made him feel like shit, he said so. He didn’t deserve that.”

“No, he didn’t,” Steve shook his head. “And my Pack, they weren’t laughing at him, they would never do something like that.”

“But Mr. Bucky said –“

“They were laughing at me,” Steve finished, cutting Peter off.

“Why?” he wanted to know.

“Because I’ve been wanting to talk to Bucky for a long time, and my Pack knew it. This was the first chance I had. But I was really, really nervous, and when I finally had the chance, I opened my mouth, and said something stupid, really, _really stupid._ ”

“What’d you say?” Peter asked.

“I said,” Steve closed his eyes, feeling his cheeks burn at the memory. “You have a metal arm, and it’s very shiny.”

“Oh god, that is stupid.”

“I know,” Steve dragged his hands over his face.

“So stupid.”

“ _I know,_ ” Steve groaned. “And my Pack, they were there, they heard me, and thought it was hilarious. They weren’t laughing at him, they were laughing at _me_. But Bucky didn’t know that, and he got upset and left. I wanted to talk to him, to try and explain everything, but you were there, and…”

“And I challenged you,” Peter stated.

“You did,” Steve acknowledged. “And you were right, he didn’t want me there, I could smell it. And I didn’t want to make things worse than they already were, so I left.”

“Oh,” Peter said, quiet for a few seconds, and then, “Why were you nervous?”

“What?” Steve asked, lifting his head.

“Why were you nervous to talk to Mr. Bucky?” Peter repeated. “He’s really easy to talk to. We do it all the time.”

Steve stared at Peter, unable to believe he had no idea, when everyone else in Lehigh seemed to. But then again, Peter was a teenager, a brave one, but still a teenager. And teenagers were often dealing with enough challenges of their own to pay too much attention to the things going on around them. Still, Peter was different, Steve had witnessed that for himself. He would probably understand, so Steve decided to tell him.

But not with words.

Steve took a moment, turning his attention inward, letting go of his control as he thought of Bucky, and all the things he made both Steve and his wolf feel. The hunger, the craving, the need. The inescapable want and endless, _endless_ yearning; for home, for love. A silent howl Peter’s wolf couldn’t help but understand, for the other half of his heart, for _Mate._

Peter was a very smart young man. And a very sharp young werewolf as well. He caught the scent Steve was sharing with him, his nostrils flaring and eyes widening.

“Oh,” he said, taking a small step back, and then another sniff. “ _Oh._ He’s your…”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, feeling small and vulnerable. “He is.”

“And he makes you nervous?” Peter asked.

“Really, really nervous,” Steve chuckled. “So nervous, I keep messing it up.”

“But you’re the _Alpha!_ ” Peter exclaimed, as if the very thought of Steve having mate problems was unfathomable to him. “Why would you be nervous?”

“I’m still a person, Peter,” Steve told him. “ _Alpha_ or not, I still get nervous around someone who smells really nice to me. And you know there are rules to this. I can’t just tell him, and demand he make a decision before he’s ready, make him think I’m trying to force him into something or take his choices away.”

“I guess so,” Peter conceded, staring at Steve, breathing in his scent and the truth of his words. Then coming to some inward conclusion of his own, he hitched his backpack higher on his shoulders and sat down on the end of the truck bed next to Steve.

“You shouldn’t be nervous though,” he continued a moment later. “’Cos he’s really cool.”

“Bucky?” Steve asked.

“Yeah,” Peter nodded. “He doesn’t even kill spiders, just puts them outside instead. And he has this cat, Vimes, that he adopted a few months ago. He was real shy at first, always hiding under the bed, because he’d been at the shelter for a really long time. No one wanted him, see, because he’s missing an ear and has a real stubby tail, and was scared of people. When Mr. Bucky went there, he asked to see the cat who’d been there the longest, because everybody deserves a second chance, according to him, even cats. Vimes was scared, but Mr. Bucky was real patient with him, quiet and nice, and after not too long, Vimes started to trust him, and now he’s the sweetest cat in the world, who loves belly rubs, just because Mr. Bucky gave him a chance, when no one else would.”

“Wow,” Steve said, jealous of the cat who got his belly rubbed by Bucky.

“He’s funny, and really, really smart too,” Peter continued. “He speaks like, a whole bunch of languages, and is totally into science. Two weekends ago, he set up this telescope up on the roof and asked if me and Aunt May wanted to see Saturn. He even told me I could invite Ned and MJ so they could see it too. He’s helped me with my homework a lot, and with studying, talking about it in a way that makes it easy to understand. He has a ton of books he lets me borrow, and just grumbles when I kick his ass at Call of Duty. He talks to me all the time, and is nice to Aunt May, and never once complains when I keep showing up on his balcony, no matter how many times a week I do it, just tells me to get dressed before he lets me in, and then feeds me pizza, ‘cos he knows I’m starving.”

“He sounds…” _Kind, generous, understanding._ A good person, someone any werewolf would be proud to have at their side as a mate. Everything Peter just said gave Steve a deeper insight about who Bucky was than anything his pack and Pack provided. “Amazing,” was all Steve could think of to say.

“Well,” Peter shrugged with a frown. “He also thinks Taylor Swift is cool, so there’s that.”

“What’s wrong with Taylor Swift?” Steve asked.

“Oh my god, seriously?” Peter rolled his eyes, causing Steve to chuckle. It meant Peter was relaxed, calm enough to tease Steve a little bit. And as smart as he was, Steve hoped Peter decided to stay or move back here after he finished college. Lehigh could definitely use more people like Peter living here. But then Peter sighed, his sudden burst of energy leaving him, his posture deflating. Along with a smell of _worry, worry, worry._

“Peter?”

“I don’t think he’s happy here though,” Peter mumbled.

“Why?” Steve kept a tight rein on his own worry, now pulsing through his heart.

“Something he said to Aunt May,” he said in the same tone of voice.

“What did he say?” Steve wanted to know.

“He was talking to her, not too long ago, and they were being quiet, so I know I wasn’t supposed to overhear, but…” But little werewolves had big ears, and could hear things even when the humans around them were trying to keep secrets.

“What did he say, Peter?” Steve asked again.

“He said that things had gotten weird lately,” Peter shrugged. “That people were staring at him all the time, making him feel uncomfortable, some of them even saying some mean things about him. He told Aunt May he might have made a mistake moving here.”

_Shit!_ Steve cursed inwardly. If people were outwardly staring at Bucky, making him feel uncomfortable, going so far as to talk about him, then pack trying to help Steve or not, things had gone too far. Bucky hadn’t done anything wrong, not a single thing, and had every right to live his life in peace, not be made to feel unwelcome, even if he ultimately rejected Steve. And why shouldn’t he, at this point? Lehigh was a great town, with an even better pack, but that didn’t mean it was perfect. If its residents were now starting to harass Bucky because of who he was to Steve, then Steve, as the _Alpha_ , had let things go to too far.

Peggy warned him about this, one of the last lessons she made sure to impart before her death. People, both human and werewolf, had always been and would always be attracted to those in positions in power. Steve being _Alpha_ meant there were going to be those interested in him not for who he was, but what. He’d received plenty of invitations to share someone’s bed, some quite aggressive. He had no problem with that; werewolves especially liked to make their intentions known, especially in regard to sexual interest. If it was simply for a night or two of shared pleasure, Steve would have happily accepted. It was their motives he needed to question, be wary of, because more often than not they didn’t want to have sex with Steve, but the _Alpha_ , and that was the last thing, the absolute last thing, Steve wanted from a lover.

Except now Steve had a mate, who everyone knew about, and some people, and Steve could just imagine who, were viewing him as competition, and not the blessing, the grace, the greatest gift possible, he truly was. And they were taking their frustrations out on Bucky himself, with Bucky having no idea why. He was right to be confused and upset by what he was experiencing, and Steve’s own Pack, however good their intentions, certainly hadn’t helped. Bruce was correct when he warned them off; Bucky had a right to his privacy and deserved a chance to build a life for himself just like everybody else.

Steve was going to put a stop to it, by force if he had to. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that, that a warning would be more than enough to set things back to rights. But he could, if he felt it necessary. He was one of the few _Alphas_ in the world strong enough to compel not only any werewolves in his territory, but all the humans as well, if he wished it. He hated the thought, yet something needed to be done. But first…

“I have to talk to him,” Steve said, his wolf growling inwardly with its rage. “Let him know it’s not his fault, that he didn’t do anything wrong.”

“He’s not here,” Peter interrupted Steve’s inner dialogue.

“What?” Steve asked, jerking back.

“He’s not here,” Peter shook his head.

“How do you know?”

“’Cos he stopped by on Saturday morning and asked me and Aunt May to look after Vimes,” Peter explained. “Said he was going to go back to New York for a few days, visit some friends. And I know one of them, his best friend, is were. He’s probably going to take one smell of Mr. Bucky and tell him to come home, come back to his Pack.” Peter’s own smell filled the air, _worry, fear, sad, worry, fear, worry, sad, sad, sad_.

“Did he say when he was coming back?” Steve pressed, knowing his own scent was emanating the same.

“Couple of days. Wednesday, maybe Thursday, at the latest. If he does come back,” he finished in a grumble.

“From everything you said, he wouldn’t leave Vimes behind. Or without saying goodbye to you first,” Steve said, _hoped, prayed._

“Guess so,” Peter admitted.

“And things will be better by the time he gets back. I’m going to talk to everybody about it, make sure it is. I promise you Peter.” _And you too, Bucky._

Steve just hoped he wasn’t already too late.

“You swear it?”

“I do,” Steve nodded, putting every bit of _Alpha_ he possibly could into his voice, not to command, but comfort. Peter, just like Bucky, deserved at least that much from him.

“’K,” Peter said, smiling for the first time in five minutes.

Steve smiled back; he really was a great kid. But then he remembered something else Peter said, and frowned.

“What did you mean before, when you said Bucky never once complains no matter how many times a week you keep showing up on his balcony?” he asked.

“Um,” Peter looked down at his sneakers. “You know, when I…when my wolf comes out.”

“And that’s happening a couple of times a week?” That was odd. Yes, Peter was young and would be struggling to gain control while he fused with his wolf. But that should only be happening once a week at the most, not several times.

“Yeah,” Peter mumbled.

“What about Quill? Hasn’t he been helping?” Quill was Peter’s sponsor. He was a bit of a loose cannon, but he’d sworn he was more than ready to act as a sponsor. Steve thought the responsibility would be good for him, be good for both of them. But apparently Quill wasn’t doing his job.

Peter’s silence was answer enough.

“Peter,” Steve said, needing to know. “Hasn’t Quill been helping you?”

“He did, a little, at first,” he finally admitted.

“But lately?” Steve pressed. Peter shook his head. “And you didn’t come to me?”

“I didn’t want to bother you, or get Quill in trouble!” Peter immediately protested.

“Peter,” Steve softened his voice, not wanting him to think Steve was angry. At least not with him. “I’m your _Alpha._ You’re supposed to come to me when something like this happens. That’s what I’m here for. And Quill made a promise, to the both of us. If something came up,” and Steve was positive it was a woman; it always was with Quill, “then it was his responsibility to let me know, so I could find somebody else to help you.”

“I guess.”

“You’ve got to be exhausted, and starving all the time.” No wonder he was so skinny; if he was shifting several times a week, his body was burning through a lot of calories. And the less calories he had in reserve, the weaker his control would be.

“It’s not so bad,” Peter lied. They both could smell it. “Aunt May packs me four sandwiches for lunch, and makes sure I have extra money in case I get hungry. And Mr. Bucky always orders three extra pizzas whenever I’m over. Meat lovers too.” At least the humans in Peter’s life were doing their best to do right by him. Steve really hadn’t been doing his job as _Alpha_ lately, something that was definitely going to change.

“Has it been this rough since your first shift?” Steve asked. Peter didn’t say anything, just nodded again. “Do you have any idea why?” Schools were now required by law to teach the very basics of werewolf biology so young weres knew what to expect. That education was even more involved and detailed in places like Lehigh, with higher werewolf populations. And Peter really shouldn’t be struggling this much, no matter that he was barely sixteen years old.

“I do,” Peter finally admitted. He looked up, to where his two friends were still waiting for him, his eyes focusing not on Ned, but Mary Jane, his scent changing, blooming, nearly overwhelming Steve.

Inescapable want and endless, _endless_ yearning. Home, and safety, and need. The silent howl of his inner wolf, for love, for the other half of his heart, for his Mate.

_Oh,_ was all Steve could think, understanding, sympathy, happiness and compassion surging through his veins with the knowledge.

“Does she know?” Steve didn’t think so. In spite of recent events, and certain individuals’ behavior, a mating was something Lehigh embraced, celebrated, rejoiced over. As its _Alpha_ , Steve was usually the first to know outside of the newly mated were’s Pack, so he could offer his congratulations. He hadn’t heard anything, but could admit he’d been somewhat distracted, as well as not doing his job the way he should.

But Peter’s silence was all the answer Steve needed.

No wonder he’d been so quick to recognize what Steve’s own scent said. And no wonder it was such a struggle for him to control his shifting. He was young, so young, and it was hard enough at his age to find the balance, build the bridge between his two halves. His wolf had found its person, his one true love and wanted out to be there with her, protect her, show off for her, prove his worth.

The poor kid.

“Oh,” Steve said, softly, reverently, as gently as he could. Because it was a miracle, it truly was, but that didn’t mean it was easy.

“Yeah,” Peter sighed once more.

“I don’t know her very well,” Steve continued. “But I do know Richard, her stepfather, and he says she’s very smart, and that he’s so proud of her.”

“She is,” Peter smiled, his entire face lighting up. “She’s funny and super intelligent, way smarter than me. And she likes anime, thinks spiders are cool, listens to really great music, and I like her curly hair. It smells like sunshine and warm sand and chocolate chip cookies.”

“Then I’ll let you get back to her,” Steve couldn’t help his laugh. Even though Bucky smelled differently to him, of clean water, fresh leaves and winter moonlight, he knew exactly how intoxicating it could be. Steve wanted to bury his face in Bucky’s hair and smell it forever.

“’K,” Peter jumped off the bumper to his feet.

“But before you go,” Steve caught his eye before he dashed off, “just know I’ll be setting you up with a new sponsor. I’ll call you ahead of time so you know who it is, but they’ll be visiting you soon.” Steve was going to set him up with the best sponsor he could think of. Peter deserved no less. “And I’ll be checking in on you myself, just to make sure it’s working out. OK?”

“OK,” he said, but he’d already turned away, his feet following the pull of his heart.

“And Peter,” Steve called after him.

“Yeah?” Peter looked over his shoulder.

“Remember what I said, all right? And thank you, for everything. You’ve been a big help.” Steve let his voice rumble with all the pride and pleasure he felt for the young man he was responsible for.

“You’re welcome,” Peter beamed at him. “And you too. Good luck, Captain Rogers. I really hope it works out.”

“You too, Peter. And please, call me Steve.” But Peter had already dashed away, returning to his friends. Steve couldn’t help his smile as he watched them, Ned reaching out to pat his shoulder, and Mary Jane saying something that made Peter laugh. Steve was definitely going to have a word or two with Quill. After he personally picked a sponsor who would do right by Peter. Maybe Sam; he was mated, so he’d know what Peter was going through, had fostered other young werewolves, and would have the right touch for someone like Peter.

But first things first.

Steve reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone and opened the messenger app. It was time for Steve to do his goddamned job, and fix the problem he himself created.

**Group Message to Pack:** _Mandatory mtg tonight @ 8pm. Everyone to attend. NO exceptions._

Enough was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wherever you are in the world, Happy Friday and I hope your weekend's off to a good start. =) =) =)


	8. Chapter 8

In the end, Bucky had to admit, it was a good decision to get out of Lehigh for a couple of days and head back to New York City. After Bruce readily agreed to his request for a few days off, the question was barely out of his mouth before Gabe was nodding and saying, “Get your ass on the next train, Bucky. Me and Jimmie will meet you at Penn Station. You can stay with us for as long as you want.”

As soon as he stepped off the train, Gabe took one sniff of him and immediately shook his head with a growled, _‘Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, no,’_ before pulling Bucky into his arms, his neck bared so Bucky could smell him, holding on tight. Gabe refused to let go, and less than an instant later a second pair of arms, Jimmie’s arms, wrapped around him, telling him he was missed, he was wanted, he was _loved._

Bucky nearly melted right then and there.

That night, after dinner had been eaten and the dishes put away, when they sat on the couch, Gabe turned into a living blanket on top of Bucky, demanding he talk, Jimmie doing the same on his other side. Jimmie was a human like Bucky, but he was also a werewolf’s mate, and all his complaints about _naked people_ aside, he understood how weres used touch, as much as words and scent, to communicate.

The puppy pile was pretty damned nice. As was the following day spent at Claudette’s, Gabe’s mom’s, house, where he spent his time being overfed, and crawled on by all of Gabe’s nieces and nephews, their happy cries of _“Uncle Bucky!”_ a balm to his soul.

Bucky adored Gabe’s family. They were the ones who supported him when Winifred and Becca died, standing by his side at the gravesite during their funeral, when none of Bucky’s other relatives, aside from Great Uncle Arnie, bothered to show up. They were also the ones there for him when he returned to the United States missing an arm, and who helped with his subsequent recovery. When Great Uncle Arnie died, they handled his affairs for him, letting Bucky know about the condominium the old man left him in his will. Supportive and encouraging, they were always there for him, and Bucky would do anything, anything in the world, they asked of him.

It made Bucky think of his discussion with Peter on the couch, and he found himself asking something he never would before.

“Am I part of your Pack?”

“Of course you are!” Gabe looked shocked at the question. “You have been ever since our first semester together. I thought you knew that when we invited you, Winnie and Becs over for Christmas that year.”

“That because you werewolves never use your damned words!” Jimmie swatted the back of Gabe’s head with a dishtowel. “We humans have gotten better at reading the signs, but we still need you to tell us things sometimes. That’s why I still didn’t know I was your mate five months after we started dating!”

“I said I was sorry!” Gabe said.

“You really were a disaster at it,” Bucky laughed. “You were literally walking into walls whenever he was in the same room.”

“See!” Jimmie pointed at Bucky.

“But I kept feeding you. And walking you back to your apartment after our dates. How couldn’t you know?”

“Ugh!” Jimmie tossed his hands in to the air. “Weres!” But then he kissed Gabe’s temple, so Bucky knew they were fine.

“Can you be a member of more than one Pack?” Bucky asked a little while later, over a game of Monopoly. Jimmie was kicking their asses.

“You can,” Gabe nodded. “You can be a part of quite of few. Sometimes they overlap, and sometimes they don’t, and then there’s your pack. But it does happen.”

“Like how?” Bucky wanted to know.

“So, you’re part of the Jones’ Pack, my family, and have been for years,” Gabe began. “But from what you said, you’ve already formed a small Pack of your own in Lehigh, with Peter, May and Bruce, it sounds like, so that’s two. Peter, May and Bruce would be more than welcome to come visit us, because they’re _your_ Pack, but they aren’t _our_ Pack, at least not yet, although given enough time that could change. Jimmie is of course part of our Pack, but he has another Pack, his family, the Moritas. You’re not a part of that Pack, because even though you’ve met them, you haven’t really spent much time with them, but they are a part of _my_ Pack, the Joneses.”

Bucky just blinked at him.

“You can sometimes form a Pack with your coworkers, but that depends on how much time you spend with them outside of work. Then there’s your pack, which is all the werewolves and their families in an area, and you can be close to them, but it’s still different than Pack.”

Bucky blinked at him again.

“It’s confusing as fuck,” Jimmie said, as Gabe rolled the die. “Think of it more as friends and family. You have your friends, right? And you definitely care about those people. But even among your friends, you have the ones you’re closest to. The ones you consider family, even if you’re not related by blood. They would be your Pack, while everyone else you know would be pack.” Jimmie shrugged. “It’s about support networks really, and who you’re willing to share your resources with. Werewolves love family, are extremely protective of those they consider a member of their Pack, since their Pack is the most important thing to them.”

“After our mates,” Gabe interjected

“Right,” Jimmie nodded. “After their mates. But a good mate would never try to separate a werewolf from their family, their Pack. Sometimes it happens, because of cultural differences or other circumstances. Those same things can be the reason why one mate rejects another, although in that case, it’s usually the human rejecting the werewolf.”

“We don’t like to talk about that,” Gabe muttered darkly.

“I know you don’t,” Jimmie wrapped his fingers around Gabe’s wrist. “And you won’t ever have to, not with me. I promise you, I’m with you and your fluffy ears forever.”

“I know you are.” Bucky did not have to have a were’s sense of smell to know Gabe was emanating happiness, contentment and love as he spoke.

“But you still owe me five hundred bucks for landing on Park Place. Now pay up.”

“I swear to god, you’re the most vicious one outta us all,” Gabe grumbled, reaching for his Monopoly money.

“And don’t you ever forget it,” Jimmie cackled.

All joking aside, Bucky had a deeper understanding of werewolves and their dynamics after that conversation. He was part of a Pack, apparently had been for a very long time. A fact Gabe proved when he refused to allow Bucky to leave until Thursday, the day after the anniversary of his mom and sister’s death. That day was spent with Gabe’s entire family huddling close around him, hugging him and pulling his head down to rest on their shoulders, rumbling soothingly at him, wiping his tears. When they weren’t feeding him, which they did a lot. Feeding packmates was yet another way weres showed their love for one another.

Gabe also proved his loyalty by telling Bucky he and Jimmie would be paying him a visit, and soon.

“I’m not liking what I’m hearing,” Gabe answered when Bucky asked him why. “Lehigh’s supposed to be a good place, a great place. But something’s definitely going on from everything you’ve said. This way, they’ll know you’re not alone, have people on your side willing to protect you if necessary. Hell, I’ll even bring Jessica and Lea with me.” Jessica and Lea were Gabe’s younger sisters, even fiercer in their wolf forms than he was. “That _Alpha_ won’t stand a chance against those two.”

“Fuck that,” Jimmie said. “I’ll bring my Auntie Rose. She’ll make sure to set them to rights.”

“She is small, but mighty,” Gabe nodded. Bucky laughed and then it was time for one last hug goodbye, before he was on the train heading north to Lehigh.

It had been great to see them, exactly what Bucky needed. He felt looser, calmer in his skin, knowing he was loved. He even had a plan, which Gabe enthusiastically supported; he would give it six months, and if things hadn’t settled by then, he would put his condo up for sale and return to New York. He’d even have a job waiting for him if he did. According to Gabe, Dr. Strange, one of the most conceited assholes Bucky ever assisted, kept complaining to every member of his team how Bucky was the only nurse he ever worked with who wasn’t a complete idiot. He was still an idiot, but not a complete one, high praise indeed from the ego-inflated prick.

Still, he had to admit, he was glad to be home. He’d missed Vimes, his chonk of a cat, while he’d been away, desperately so, as well as Bruce, May and Peter. Especially Peter, if he was being honest. He even had a brand new X-Wing Fighter Lego set in his backpack to show his appreciation. He just needed a way to sneak it into his apartment before Peter got a whiff of what else he was carrying; an insulated bag full of Tupperware containers of Claudette’s roasted ham, garlic potatoes, homemade mac and cheese, and three pies.

Werewolves really did enjoyed feeding the people they cared about. And while Bucky could now admit he loved Peter, that they were Pack, he had his limits.

There were voices in the hallway as Bucky climbed the stairs. When he reached his floor, he saw a werewolf standing at the opposite end, talking to May and Peter through their open door.

“I’ll give you a call tomorrow, and we’ll go over those exercises I gave you,” the were was saying. “We can set up a time for the two of us to get together so we can practice your control.”

“Thank you so much, Sam, we really appreciate this,” May said. She hadn’t noticed Bucky yet. But Peter had, his eyes growing bright. Bucky was sure Sam also knew he was there, had smelled him coming.

“Mr. Bucky! You’re back!”

“Heya Peter,” Bucky waved at him as he walked to his door. “And yeah, I am. Told you I would be. How was Vimes?”

“He was good, great. But I know he missed you. We all –“ Peter made to dash forward, but the were blocked him with an arm.

“Hey Peter,” he said. “Can you give us a second? I need to talk to Bucky.” Then he turned and Bucky immediately recognized him, his mood sinking. He was one of the werewolves from _The Blue Moon_ , one of the jerks who laughed at him.

“Yeah but,” Peter’s posture was already shifting, his nostrils flaring as he raised his chin and narrowed his eyes. Bucky now recognized Peter’s behavior for what it was, a packmate preparing to defend one of their own.

If Bucky, a human, could recognize it, then Sam, a werewolf, certainly did. “Easy there, Peter,” he soothed with a gentle smile. “Steve was certainly right about you, but I just want to talk to him for a little bit. He’ll be fine, I promise. And then you’ll get your chance, OK?”

Peter glanced between Sam and Bucky and then back to Sam, before he stepped back with a curt nod. “Sure.”

“Thank you,” Sam nodded. “We’ll talk tomorrow, OK?”

“Fine,” Peter conceded, before allowing May to close the door with a small wave in Bucky’s direction.

“Hi,” Sam turned and began approaching Bucky. “You got a second?”

“Not really,” Bucky reached into his pocket for his keys. “I just got back and I need to check on my cat.”

“This won’t take long, I promise,” Sam came to a stop in front of Bucky. Bucky was actually a bit taller than him, by about an inch. But Sam was a werewolf, and an alpha, if not the _Alpha_ , if Bucky was reading his aura right, and he knew he was. Which meant he was powerful, quick and strong. But then again, Bucky had a metal arm, the metal arm this asshole laughed about with his friends, and thanks to Stark, who could never leave anything well enough alone, he could crush metal pipes or smash concrete with it if he wanted. Bucky would never choose to do something like that; he would rather stitch flesh together or stroke Vime’s fluffy belly, but it was an option.

He'd had to draw the line at the lasers though. He hadn’t liked the look on either Tony or Shuri’s faces when they suggested that.

“I’m Sam, Sam Wilson,” Sam introduced himself. He was a handsome man, with smooth, dark skin, chiseled features and a neatly trimmed goatee. Shame he was a prick, though. At least he didn’t reach out his hand, waiting for Bucky to initiate contact.

“Hello,” Bucky said, flicking through his keys, searching for the right one.

“And you’re Bucky, right?”

“I am,” Bucky nodded, as Vimes began to meow at him from the opposite side of the door.

“Look, about the other night…”

“What about it?” Bucky lifted his chin in his own gesture of challenge.

“I wanted to apologize,” Sam said.

“Oh do you now?” Bucky asked.

“I do,” Sam nodded. “We weren’t making fun of you Bucky, we weren’t.”

“Sure as hell felt like you were,” Bucky retorted sharply.

“And that’s our fault,” Sam agreed. “We didn’t mean to make you feel bad, I promise. But never-the-less, we did. We can be a bit rambunctious around here sometimes, but we would never make fun of you, or anyone else, especially not for something like that.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Bucky unlocked but did not open his door.

“I know,” Sam nodded. “And Riley was furious with me when I told him about it.” And that was just great. Now everyone in town knew what happened. Bucky began to wonder if he should just grab Vimes and get on the next train back to New York City.

“What does Riley have to do with any of it?” Bucky asked. Although he supposed if anyone could understand how Bucky felt, it would be Riley.

“He’s my Mate,” Sam smiled the smile all werewolves smiled when speaking of their beloveds. “But he also said it was shitty of us, and of course you were going to be upset, that you had every reason to be. And he’s right, you do. He was so mad about it he made me sleep on the couch for two days.”

Bucky just stared at him, not saying anything. Did Sam expect him to sympathize?

“That’s why I wanted to apologize,” Sam continued after a few seconds. “And ask you to give us, to give all of Lehigh, another chance. It really is a great town, and we do our best to make sure everyone feels welcome here. Don’t judge it too harshly just because we fucked up.

“And the people here, they really like you, I know they do,” Sam paused to glance over his shoulder. “Isn’t that right Peter?”

_“Oh shit!”_ came the muffled squeak through the door, followed by a “But we do!”

“He’s right!” That was May’s voice.

“So I’m asking you to give us another chance, OK?” Sam continued.

“I’ll think about it,” Bucky finally said.

“That’s all I ask,” Sam smiled again. “I can smell your Pack all over you, how much they love you, but we’d also really like it if you considered becoming a part of ours. You’d be more than welcome, and I know it would make Steve happy.”

“We’ll see,” Bucky tilted his head.

“Thank you,” Sam said. “And if you need anything, anything at all, feel free to contact me. Peter has my number and my permission to give it to you.”

“Thanks.”

“Anyway, that’s all I wanted to talk to you about. Thanks for letting me have my say, I’ll let you get on with your day.” Sam stepped back. “Bye Peter. Bye May.”

“Bye Sam,” two voices called through their door. And then Sam was gone, waving over his shoulder as he went. Bucky silently started counting down from three…

“Mr. Bucky! You’re back!” Peter was at his side before Bucky got to one.

“Yeah I am,” Bucky draped an arm over Peter’s shoulder, giving him a hug. “How’re doing? Everything OK while I was gone?”

“It was fine.” Peter was a lot less subtle than Sam, sniffing his shoulder and the scent of Gabe and his family all over him. “Are you feeling better now?”

“I am,” Bucky smiled at him.

“Good,” Peter said and then sniffed the air again, his eyes widening. “Is that pie?”

Bucky laughed. It really was good to be home.

***

“So about the other night.”

Bucky was in the break room, getting himself a cup of coffee when Scott walked in, trailed by Luis.

It had been good going back to work. The previous evening, as he unpacked while telling May and Peter all about his trip, and after the kid devoured his way through three-fourths of Claudette’s food, Bucky went to bed ruminating over his conversation with Sam, as well as the ones he’d had with Gabe and Jimmie. Sam sounded sincere, but sincerity aside, if Bucky could avoid his Pack, he was more than willing to give the rest of Lehigh another chance. It wasn’t like he was stuck here, and he now knew he had a Pack of his own in New York who would warmly welcome his return.

But Bruce’s welcome at his return had also been warm, filled with honest and gentle smiles, offers of tea, and polite yet interested questions about his trip. Then it was time for Bucky to get back to work.

He was taking a breather for a much needed hit of caffeine when the two paramedics approached him.

“What about it?” Bucky asked Scott, stepping away from the coffee machine so Scott could have a turn.

“I have a kid, you know,” Scott began, ignoring the machine and facing Bucky instead. “A daughter, Cassie, seven years old and the light of my life.”

“OK.” Bucky hadn’t known that. But then again, he didn’t know very much about Scott or Luis.

“I’m trying to raise her right, me and my ex, we both are,” Scott went on. “Teach her how to treat people, and to never make someone feel bad on purpose. And what happened the other night at _The Blue Moon_ made you feel bad, even if we weren’t laughing at you. If that had been Cassie that’d happened to, I’d’ve been furious.

“And if she’d seen something like that, and didn’t step in to help, I would have been just as upset. We didn’t mean to offend you, but none of us stepped in to stop it either, when we should have. And I wanted to apologize for that, and let you know it won’t happen again,” Scott finished.

“Thanks,” Bucky nodded. Just like Sam, Bucky didn’t know how sincere Scott was, but he was at least making an effort. Bucky didn’t have to be friends with him or his partner, but they did work together, so Bucky could at least be polite. 

“Yeah, see, my Tio Rico,” Luis spoke for the first time, stepping forward. “He’s _loco_. Like, totally _loco en la cabeza,_ ” he tapped his forehead. “He sings to his blender and swears it sings back, and chases the Good Humor man whenever he drives by, because he’s convinced he’s Satan. And then there was that whole thing with the ducks.”

“OK,” Bucky took a step back.

“But even he would have beaten me with his _chancla_ if he knew what happened. And that man, he’s got better aim than Xena.”

“Ignore him. It runs in the family,” Scott grunted.

“Just my mother’s side.”

“Thanks for the chat, but I really need to get back to work,” Bucky said, then turned and bolted from the room.

***

“The Bucky!”

_Nope._

Bucky turned on his heel and walked away. His grocery shopping could wait. He was _not_ going to deal with this today.

He should have known better; it was impossible to outrun a werewolf, especially a determined one. And this blond werewolf was certainly determined, easily matching his pace and cutting in front of him.

“If you would please just give me a moment,” he said, holding out his hand.

“OK.” He really was huge and there was no way Bucky would be able to pass him unless he permitted it.

“About the other night,” he began, because of course he would. It seemed as if everyone involved intended to talk to Bucky about what happened.

“Yes?”

“I wanted to apologize to you. It was unacceptable and our behavior most dishonorable. My ancestors would be ashamed if I partook in treating anyone that way, but especially since you are a healer of such high caliber, according to Bruce. A Pack, especially a good Pack, values all its members, but especially its healers, since it is their life’s work to help and not hurt.”

“OK.” Whatever. Could he just go home?

“My Jane, she was also quite disappointed in me, saying that during our previous encounter I also overstepped the boundaries of human propriety. I am not from here, and your customs sometimes confuse me. But I wanted to apologize for that also. Whatever your feelings in regard to plums are, they are yours and yours alone.”

“Right.”

“As such, I would like to offer you this,” he waved his hand to someone standing off to their right. A few seconds later, Jackie came trundling over, carrying a large, wrapped platter in his arms, the cellophane tied off with a huge, red ribbon. “As proof of my sincerity.”

“He had me put it together as soon as you walked in,” Jackie said, holding it out to Bucky. A second look revealed it contained brownies, a circular stack of what had to be at least eighty of them. The cream cheese ones, Jackie’s specialty.

“Please, the Bucky, accept this small token to know I speak nothing but the truth.”

“You really didn’t have to do that,” Bucky took a step back.

“But I did. Truly, it was the least I could do.” The were easily plucked the tray from Jackie’s arms and held it out toward Bucky, forcing him to accept it. It was _heavy_. Metal arm or not, Bucky had no idea how he was going to carry it home. “And if you would like something else as well, perhaps some of your beloved plums, just let me know. Or tell them to put it on Thor Odinson’s account.”

“Uh-huh,” Bucky grunted. He was going to have to start shopping someplace else, wasn’t he?

“The only thing I ask of you, if you would extend me the courtesy, is that you do not mention this to Steve,” Thor said.

“He doesn’t like brownies?” was all Bucky could think to ask.

“Oh no, he is quite fond of them, especially Jackie’s,” Thor shook his head.

“I make the best damned brownies in the world,” Jackie insisted.

“But he would not appreciate the gesture, think it inappropriate. But this matter is between me and you, and I needed to settle it like a warrior would.”

“With brownies?” Bucky squinted at him.

“My brownies,” Jackie said.

“OK?” Bucky agreed. What else could he do? And what the hell did Steve have to do with any of this?

“Thank you, the Bucky,” Thor smiled at him. “You are a good human, and a welcome addition to our Pack. I look forward to getting to know you better in the future.” Thor reached out and patted his shoulder, so hard Bucky stumbled, then turned and strode off.

Bucky stood there, blinking, his arms starting to ache as he watched Thor walk away, then glanced down at the tray.

“What the _hell_ am I supposed to do with eighty brownies?”

“Eat them?” Jackie answered, as if it were obvious.

***

Bucky was sitting outside on his usual park bench, his eyes closed, trying to enjoy as much of the mid-autumn sunlight as he could, when it happened.

_Again._

This time when the shadow fell across his face and he opened his eyes, there was another tall werewolf standing there, with shaggy, sandy brown hair, and whiskey-colored eyes, his uniform rumpled. He was handsome, in a rakish sort of way, if very disheveled.

Holding out a pizza box.

_Oh god_ , now what?

“So I owe you a lunch,” he said, extending the box for Bucky to take.

That’s when it clicked.

“That was _you?_ ”

“Heh, yeah,” he shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. “That was me. I’m a bit of a pizza addict, everybody knows that, and yours smelled really, really good, and I couldn’t help myself.”

“I noticed,” Bucky scowled.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he shrugged again. “I’m Clint Barton, by the way.”

“I’m Bucky, but I’m guessing you already know that.”

“I do,” Clint nodded, toeing a pebble in the grass. He was staring at Bucky, and Bucky couldn’t help but think he looked a bit, just a bit, like a kicked puppy.

“Look,” he eventually continued. “About the other night.”

“What about it?” Bucky asked, opening the box and grabbing a still steaming slice of gooey, greasy pizza. It was from _Valducci’s_ , Bucky’s favorite pizzeria and he wasn’t going to let it get cold.

“I was there, you know?” Clint said.

“I know,” Bucky mumbled around a mouthful of wonderful, delicious pizza. Because of course Bucky remembered the faces of every single person there.

“And it was shitty. We were shitty.”

“You were.”

“We were,” Clint agreed. “We didn’t mean it, but it still made you feel bad. Even if we couldn’t see it, we could all smell it, and I wanted to apologize personally to you. Before I found my way here, I felt that way a lot, and I hate the thought that we made you feel the same.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said. He still wasn’t sure if he believed them, any of them yet, but pizza had a way of making everything better.

“And your arm –“

“What about my arm?” Bucky cut him off with a glare.

“It’s _fucking cool,_ OK? Like wicked, awesome. Never seen anything like it,” Clint insisted. “But we never, _ever_ should have made you feel bad about it. We didn’t mean to, but we did, and I can’t speak for anybody else, but I wanted to apologize to you in person for it.”

Bucky squinted at him, letting him sweat it out for a few seconds, before he added, “And for stealing my lunch.”

“And for that too,” Clint quickly nodded, and then just stood there, watching Bucky eat his pizza. Bucky sighed inwardly. This place, and all its denizens, really were weird.

“And it is fucking cool,” Bucky said after a few more chews. “I can even punch through concrete with it if I want to.” Let them stew on that for a bit.

“Really?” Clint asked eagerly, not quite the reaction Bucky expected. “What else can you do with it?” He flopped down onto the bench right next to Bucky.

“Eat pizza,” Bucky said.

“Cool,” Clint nodded. He leaned over, pressing his shoulder against Bucky’s. It was bit forward for a were to initiate physical contact with a human without them offering it first, but that could just be Clint treating him like a fellow werewolf, a sincere gesture of friendship between equals.

Or, Bucky thought suspiciously, he could be trying to steal some of Bucky’s pizza.

“No,” Bucky shifted the box to the side, out of Clint’s reach.

“Aw, c’mon, please,” Clint whined.

“I said no.”

“But it’s _Valducci’s,_ and their pizza is the best!”

“I said no!”

“Fine,” Clint huffed. But he stayed and sat with Bucky for the rest of his lunch, keeping their shoulders pressed together, not once moving away.

***

There was a wolf in front of him.

Standing there in the middle of the path Bucky was jogging, as if waiting for him. Bucky had spent plenty of time with werewolves, in both their forms, socially and professionally, and especially now since moving to Lehigh, yet still he could see there was something different about this wolf.

It was smaller than most, slender and lean, with sleek russet fur, but Bucky could see the sharpness and cunning in their gaze, unusual even for a wolf, as it sat there in a perfect stillness, watching him.

Bucky stopped, pulling his earbuds out, and met its gaze with his own.

There was a shimmer, bright and intense, and before he could take his next breath, the wolf was replaced with a woman, lovely and petite, pale, with elfin features, garnet hair and green eyes, still staring at him with that same sharpness.

“And here’s me, without my red hood,” Bucky said. She tilted her chin, acknowledging the hit. “Are you the one that’s been stalking me everywhere I go?”

“Following, not stalking.” Her voice was low and smooth, with only the slightest accent; a softening of the g, the smallest emphasis of her vowels, but very, very subtle, unless one knew what to listen for. “Why haven’t you gone back to _The Blue Moon?_ ”

“Haven’t felt like it,” Bucky shrugged.

“Don’t blame Lena for what we did,” she said. “She was mortified by what happened and is upset you haven’t come back yet.”

“I’m sure she has plenty of other customers to keep her busy,” Bucky tossed back, his nerves still a bit raw by the entire experience.

“But you’re one of her favorites. Don’t let our mistake ruin that, for either of you.”

“We’ll see.” Bucky kept his gaze locked with hers, refusing to break eye contact. “Do you have a name, naked lady?”

“Natasha.”

“Why have you been stalking me?” Bucky asked again.

“Following, not stalking,” she repeated with a roll of her eyes. “And it’s because I was curious about you, we all are really. You’re new in town and I wanted to see how you were settling in.”

“Uh-huh.” Bucky didn’t buy it.

“You’ve worked with werewolves in the past. You should know by now we like to keep track of all the people in our territory.”

“Am I not welcome here?” he asked. He had a feeling if anyone was going to tell him the truth, it would be her.

“Of course you are. You’re more than welcome here. Everybody is, as long as they don’t cause trouble. But,” she sighed and shook her head, ending their staring contest, “I realize it might not feel that way, especially after what happened last week. That was unfair to you, and it won’t happen again. I promise.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said, still unsure if he could believe her. “Is that all? I’ve still got a mile left to go on my run.” He tilted his chin in the direction of the path he’d been following.

“That’s all,” Natasha stepped out of his way. “And go back to _The Blue Moon_. Lena would love to see you.”

“I’ll think about it,” Bucky said as he passed her, resuming his run. But then, five paces later, he glanced over his shoulder and called out, in Russian this time, “ _And stop stalking me._ ”

She said nothing, but there was a smile on her face before the path turned and she was out of sight.

***

It was bound to happen, Bucky knew it was coming, had been expecting it, so he wasn’t as surprised as he would have been a few days ago when there was a cautious and soft, “ _Hi_ ,” behind him and he turned around to see Steve, the _Alpha_ , standing there.

He was surprised Steve found him in _Percolicious._ He’d started stopping there in the mornings instead of _The Beanie Bean_. After the events of the previous week, and his subsequent trip to New York, Bucky remembered he didn’t owe any establishment his patronage, or money, especially if they made him feel unwelcome. It was why he hadn’t returned to _The Blue Moon_ , and why he switched coffee houses. The staff at _The Beanie Bean_ were fine, but their customers were the ones who had no inhibitions talking about him within earshot, usually very snidely. _Percolicious’_ expresso wasn’t as strong as _The Beanie Bean’s_ , but he could order two shots instead of one. While he loved his job, it was stressful enough, and he didn’t need to start his day feeling pricked and irritated before it began. It was a deviation from his normal routine, and a block out of his way, but there were plenty of businesses in Lehigh Bucky had not visited yet, and he thought it a good idea to explore his options.

Except Steve had found him here, and from the sudden hush in the room, he wondered if he was going to have to find someplace new, or start bringing coffee with him from home.

“Hello,” Bucky said with a nod, glancing around at everybody staring at them, before he turned and placed his order, adding one of their breakfast croissants to it. _Fuck,_ he probably was, wasn’t he? He was really coming to love their breakfast sandwiches.

But then Steve cleared his throat, a soft but very deliberate sound, and the ambient conversations resumed.

“So about the other day,” Steve began.

“It’s fine. I get it, don’t worry about it,” Bucky shook his head, reaching for his wallet.

“No, Bucky, it’s not. It’s really, really not. And here, let me get that for you,” Steve reached past him and held out a twenty.

“You don’t have to do that,” Bucky tried to refuse.

“Please, I want to,” Steve countered. “It’s the least I can do after everything. Let me. Please.”

“All right.” Steve’s eyes were so blue, and he had long, golden, sun-kissed lashes. He was tall and strong, and should have been imposing, but there was something soft and gentle about him, especially his aura, that living nebula of moonlight and starshine. Bucky realized he was staring and shook his head, moving to the end of the counter to wait for his breakfast. Steve followed.

“So I wanted to apologize,” he said again, shoving his hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket.

“And I told you it’s fine,” Bucky insisted.

“What I said to you was horrible and unacceptable, and never should have happened, but you were hurt –“

“And I got over it.”

“But you shouldn’t have had to and I feel awful for doing that to you. And I know it’s not about me,” he quickly added. “But I still wanted to, needed to, apologize to you for it. And give you my word that it won’t ever happen again, I swear it.” What was it with the werewolves in this place, all staring at him like puppies? Bucky was tempted to reach out and ruffle his hair. And yeah, that night had been awful, but Bucky had been stressed, so maybe it all just was a horrible misunderstanding. He did have to live here after all, and it couldn’t hurt to accept the _Alpha’s_ apology. He decided to extend an olive branch.

“Apology accepted,” he made sure to smile as he said it.

_“Thank you,”_ Steve sighed as if a terrible weight was lifted from his shoulders. And Bucky could admit, if only to himself, those were some _seriously fine_ shoulders. It was too bad…Well, it was just too bad was all Bucky could think before his name was called.

But when he turned to grab it, Steve already had it in hand, holding it out to Bucky.

“Thanks,” Bucky said, taking it from him.

“You’re welcome,” Steve smiled.

“Anyway, I need to get to work,” Bucky tilted his head toward the entrance.

“Oh, right, of course,” Steve nodded, and started following as he walked. Only to cut in front of Bucky and actually hold the door open.

“Thanks,” Bucky said again, confused now. Should he smile? Tip his hat, if he’d been wearing one?

“You’re very welcome,” Steve repeated, with another smile. And then he continued walking alongside Bucky as he made his way to toward the hospital. Bucky couldn’t help but wonder what the hell was going on.

“Look,” Bucky slowed his pace, only to have Steve match it. “Since we’re talking about the other night…”

“Yes?” Steve’s posture shifted, tightened. Almost as if he were bracing for a blow.

“About Peter,” Bucky began.

“What about Peter?” Steve immediately asked.

“He’s a great kid, OK? When you came over and he did what he did, he was doing it for me. He shouldn’t have, but he did. But he’s a teenager, you know, and I don’t want him to get into any trouble because was trying to protect me.”

“What, that? That was fine,” Steve suddenly looked relieved.

“But he challenged you, the _Alpha,_ ” Bucky didn’t know why he was reminding Steve of this, yet he was.

“But he did it for the right reason, and we encourage that here,” Steve said, as if that explained everything. Seeing Bucky’s puzzled expression, he continued, “He was protecting a member of his Pack, someone who had been hurt through no fault of their own. It took a lot of courage for him to do that, even if I never would have laid a hand on him. But it was still the right thing to do and very brave. I was actually proud of him.”

“He’s a great kid,” Bucky reiterated.

“He is,” Steve nodded, then paused. “Were you actually worried I was going to do something to him? Punish him for it?”

“I didn’t think so,” Bucky shook his head. “But I still wanted to be sure.”

“That’s not how I run my pack. That’s not how any pack should be run, but especially not here.” There was strength and conviction in Steve’s voice. “I want my pack, everybody here, to trust me, to feel free to come to me if they’re struggling or need help. But I also want them to let me know, or even challenge me if they think I’ve done something wrong. That I’m going to listen and hear what they’re saying. How will I ever learn to be a better _Alpha_ if I don’t do that?” As he spoke, Bucky could begin to see it, understand why everyone held Steve in such high regard. He was strong, yes, and undoubtedly powerful, even Bucky could sense that. But he wasn’t a bully, and could admit when he’d made a mistake, was willing to apologize for it, and do his best to learn from it. That was a strength rare in the world, and it made him understand why Lehigh was thriving the way it was.

“That’s very enlightened of you,” was all Bucky could say.

“I try,” Steve shrugged. “I don’t always succeed, but I do try.” Steve glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “So no, you don’t have to worry about Peter, but it was good of you to say something. You’re right though, he’s a great kid, and I hope he decides to stay here after he graduates.”

“Me too,” Bucky agreed.

“What about you?” Steve asked.

“What about me?” Bucky glanced both ways before they crossed Privet Avenue.

“You haven’t been here too long, just three months or so, right?”

“Right,” Bucky nodded.

“What do you think of Lehigh so far? Do you like it? Planning on sticking around?”

“It…” Bucky paused to consider his response. “It takes a bit of getting used to. And I gotta say, it can be weird sometimes.”

“I’ll give you that,” Steve chuckled.

“And then there’s all the naked people.” Bucky glanced across the street where an elderly woman was walking down the sidewalk, as naked as the day she was born. Bucky was sure she was the same woman who startled him so much the first time.

“That’s Beth,” Steve said, following his gaze. “She’s a living legend around here.”

“She’s something, all right,” Bucky grumbled. “But she’s not the only one.”

“You should see us all after we get together for the full moon.”

“Oh believe me, I have,” this time Bucky scowled. “Asses _everywhere._ ”

“What?” Steve was teasing him now, Bucky could tell. “You don’t like ass?”

“Oh I like ass plenty,” Bucky shot back. “Just not before breakfast.”

“No ass before breakfast. I’ll make sure to remember that,” Steve grinned.

“See that you do.”

“But otherwise?” Steve asked.

“Otherwise…It’s OK, I guess,” Bucky finally admitted. “It does take some getting used to, but it’s starting to feel like home, I suppose. Which I haven’t felt in a while.” Bucky wondered why he admitted that, and to Steve of all people. But it was, the past two weeks aside.

“Bucky –“

“Anyway, this is me,” Bucky cut him off, gesturing to the hospital doors. The ten minute walk felt much shorter.

“Oh, yeah, right,” Steve nodded, his hands back in his pockets and taking a step back. When had they gotten so close?

“Thanks for the breakfast,” Bucky held up the bag. “And the chat. It was nice talking to you.”

“You’re more than welcome. And it was.”

“OK, bye.” Bucky couldn’t think of anything else to say, so he turned around and walked inside. It was time to get to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> =) =) =)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of our two Irish boys, I decided to post an extra chapter this week. I hope you enjoy it.

“Hi.”

Bucky recognized the voice, but he was still surprised when he glanced over his shoulder and saw Steve standing behind him in line at _Percolicious_. He assumed yesterday was an anomaly, Steve wanting to apologize, and then the _Alpha_ just checking in with Lehigh’s newest resident, since he hadn’t gotten his chance at _The Blue Moon_.

Yet here Steve was, smiling shyly at him, hands once again shoved in his pockets. Maybe _Percolicious_ was where Steve stopped for his morning dose of java.

“Hello,” Bucky said, turning back to the display case and trying to decide between his usual croissant sandwich and one of the banana nut muffins. Those looked really good.

“How’s it going? Did you have a good day yesterday?” Steve asked. “See any more asses?”

“Ha-ha,” Bucky said dryly. “And just my cat’s so far.”

“Well, the day is still young after all.” Was Steve actually sassing him?

“And ass waits for no man, especially round here,” Bucky straightened. “’Morning Linda. Double shot of expresso, and one of those banana nut muffins please.”

“Morning Bucky,” the barista said, then shook her head when Bucky held out his money. “It’s already taken care of.”

“What?”

“It’s on me,” Steve said.

“Steve, no, seriously,” Bucky turned toward him.

“It’s on me,” Steve insisted.

“That’s not necessary,” Bucky tried to refuse. “You already apologized, and I accepted. We’re fine. You don’t have to keep buying me breakfast.”

“But I want to.”

“Steve…”

“Please.”

“All right, fine.” It was Steve’s money after all; he could spend it however he wanted. Bucky dropped his ten into the tip jar instead.

“How’s your morning going so far?” Steve asked as they moved to the end of the counter. “Cat butt aside.”

“So far, so good. Yours?”

“Great,” Steve smiled at him. “How was work yesterday?”

“Pretty good, not too crazy. How about you? Have a good day?”

“It was great. Really, _really_ great.”

“Glad to hear it,” Bucky said. And he was. It was funny, he couldn’t help but think, how he’d gone from not knowing this man, to thinking he was an asshole to…he didn’t know what to make of Steve, not quite yet, but he was willing, more than willing, to wait and see.

By the time he came to that thought, his order was already waiting for him, much quicker than it normally was. He supposed that was because he was talking to the _Alpha_ , and the people of Lehigh were always going to go out of their way to take care of their _Alpha_.

Just like yesterday, Steve was the one who took it from Linda and handed it to him. And then, just like yesterday, Steve walked with him to the door, cutting in front of him to hold it open.

“You know, just because one of my arms is very shiny, doesn’t mean I can’t get the door,” Bucky said once they were outside.

“Oh, I…” Steve stopped dead in his tracks, his face falling. “I didn’t mean –“

“Joke. It was a joke, Steve,” Bucky told him.

“Oh, OK,” Steve looked abashed. “Still, I feel really, really bad about what I said.”

“I told you it was all right,” Bucky resumed walking, Steve hesitating a second before joining him. “And you weren’t wrong. It is very shiny.”

“Still,” Steve shrugged, looking down at his feet, again reminding Bucky of a kicked puppy. For some reason, Bucky just couldn’t let that stand.

“It’s all the Windex.”

“What?” Steve looked up.

“It’s all the Windex I use to clean it,” Bucky said.

“Do you really use Windex?” Steve asked. And that was much better.

“Nah,” Bucky shook his head.

“Oh, of course not,” Steve nodded.

Bucky waited three steps before saying, “I use Pledge.” Steve actually tripped over his own two feet.

“You’re kinda a jerk, aren’t you?” he said, as if just realizing it.

“Only on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

“And the rest of the week?”

“An asshole,” Bucky shrugged. “But I take Sundays off.”

Steve snorted.

“But…about that Friday,” Bucky bit his lip. “I had a really shitty day.”

“Bruce told me about the accident on Route 28,” Steve said quietly. “I hadn’t known about it until he did.”

“There was that,” Bucky nodded. “As well as a couple of other things I was dealing with. I was in a real bad headspace. And when you came up to me and said what you did, I snapped.”

“I am so, so sorry about that, Bucky,” Steve apologized again.

“It’s OK,” Bucky assured him. “It was probably not the most tactful of things to say, but you weren’t being malicious, I can see that now. And I get it, I do. My left arm, it’s one of a kind, and people can’t help being curious.”

“Still,” Steve shrugged.

“Peter’s always asking me about it, wanting to know what it can do,” Bucky couldn’t help his laugh. “He actually tried sticking magnets to it last week.”

“Did it work?” Steve peered at him.

“Nah,” Bucky shook his head. “It’s not magnetic. But you should’ve seen his face. He was so disappointed.”

“But it…” Steve hedged. Bucky met his gaze, giving him permission to continue. “It works for you? Makes your life easier?”

“It does,” Bucky said. “It really is an amazing piece of tech. It took me a while to get used to it, for my body to adapt, but it’s just as sensitive and responsive as my right. I have to work out, keep the muscles both strong and flexible enough to support it. But other than that, it really is just like my other arm.” Bucky grinned. “And it’s great for opening pickle jars.”

“Then I’m glad you have it,” Steve said.

“So, in case you were wondering,” Bucky paused to take breath, focus on the truth of his words, the emotion he was trying to convey, so what he was feeling was evident in his scent. It was a technique Gabe taught him. “We really are cool.”

“Thank you,” Steve said, his nostrils not even flaring. His sense of smell must be that sensitive. But he was smiling now, and Bucky didn’t need to scent him to know it was sincere.

“Anyway, this is me again,” Bucky pointed to the hospital doors. Like yesterday, the walk over passed in no time at all.

“It is,” Steve nodded. “Have a great day at work, Bucky.”

“You too, Steve. I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah,” was the last thing Bucky heard Steve say as he made his way inside. “You definitely will.”

***

“Hi.”

“Hi Steve.” Bucky didn’t even bother turning around from the pastry case. They had pecan rolls today, that looked amazing. He was definitely going to order one of those. “And can I get two of the pecan rolls please, Linda.” More than one apparently.

“Sure,” she said as Bucky straightened. “And don’t bother going for your wallet. It’s covered.”

“Steve,” this time when he said it Bucky did turn around. Steve just smiled sheepishly at him in response. “You don’t have to keep buying me breakfast.”

“Too late.”

“Steve no, I mean it. We’re square. I told you that.”

“It’s already been paid for,” he took his card from Linda’s outstretched hand.

“Seriously?” Bucky glanced between the both of them.

“Seriously,” Steve said while Linda nodded.

“Fine,” he sighed, stepping to the side.

Steve smiled. “So how was your day yesterday? And how was your morning? More cat butt in your face?”

“Nah. This time it was a paw batting my eye. Apparently I was three seconds late getting his majesty his breakfast and I needed to rectify that immediately.”

“Well, breakfast is the most important meal of the day after all,” Steve once again handed Bucky his. And then walked with him as he left, getting the door.

Again.

Weird.

“How about you? How’s your day been?” Bucky asked as they made their way down the street.

“It’s looking pretty good so far,” Steve was beaming when he glanced at him.

“Good to know,” Bucky nodded.

“Hopefully Mrs. Rosenbaum won’t call us to get her cat out of the tree,” Steve continued.

“Does that happen a lot?” Bucky asked.

“At least three times a week,” Steve grumbled. “The tree’s not even that high, and Mittens always looks like she doesn’t know how she ended up there.”

Bucky snorted; he had a pretty good idea why poor Mittens kept getting stuck in that tree if it meant a call to Lehigh’s fire department. He’d been tempted to do the same thing to Vimes. But only tempted.

“It’s not funny,” Steve grumbled as they crossed the street.

“It kinda is,” Bucky laughed.

“She takes pictures whenever we’re there!”

“Who, Mittens?”

“No! Mrs. Rosenbaum.”

_Smart lady._

“Mittens just purrs whenever we get her down,” Steve went on.

With an even smarter cat. Bucky would purr too.

“Does she at least have her clothes on?” Bucky needed to know.

“Sometimes,” Steve grunted. Bucky cackled. “But she’s human, not a werewolf.” Bucky cackled some more, then paused. They were coming up on _Frescos,_ one of the many delis that lined this particular street, and they had few stalls set outside filled with fruit. They were too tempting to pass.

“Hold on,” he shifted the bag with his pecans rolls under his arm. “Or don’t let me keep you if you have somewhere you need to be.”

“It’s fine,” Steve said, waiting and watching as Bucky began to dig through the selection of pears on display. They looked good, ripe and fresh, and he couldn’t resist. He ended up picking four; they’d be good to snack on throughout the day.

“You like pears?” Steve asked, once Bucky paid and they were back on their way.

“I love pears,” Bucky nodded. “All fruit really.” Then he remembered what happened the last two times he’d been in the _Abundant Cornucopia_. “But not in _that_ way, no matter what that Adonis you work with seems to think.”

“Adonis?” Steve frowned. And for some reason, Bucky swore he could hear a slight growl in Steve’s voice.

“The tall blond one, even bigger than you,” Bucky waved his hand at Steve.

“Thor?”

_Thor_ , that’s right, that was his name.

“Yeah, him,” it was Bucky’s turn to grunt. “He seems to think I have some weird plum kink for some reason.”

“You don’t?” Steve actually asked.

“No, I most certainly do not,” Bucky turned to Steve and scowled. “I just like to eat them, nothing else, OK?”

“OK,” Steve held his hands up. “And even if you did, that would be fine.”

“Ugh. Y’all need to eat more fruit.” They had come up on the hospital doors and once again their walk together had flown by. “In fact,” Bucky reached into his bag and pulled out one of the pears. “Take this. Have it with your lunch, or as a snack.”

Steve glanced from Bucky’s face to his outstretched hand, before he slowly reached out and took the pear.

“Thanks Bucky,” he smiled.

“You’re welcome,” Bucky said. “And make sure you eat it. You could probably use the fiber. You were looking a little constipated there just a second ago.”

“Thanks a lot,” Steve glared at him. Bucky laughed, turned on his heel and walked through the door.

“See you around, Steve,” he called as he went.

“See you later, Bucky.”

When Bucky glanced over his shoulder a few seconds later, Steve was still standing there, staring down at the pear in his hand as if it held all the secrets in the world. It was just a pear after all; hadn’t Steve ever eaten a pear before?

_Weird._

***

The line was longer and the place more crowded when Bucky walked into _Percolicious_ for his expresso the next morning. Apparently word had gotten out Steve was also getting his breakfast there, and his pack, being pack, wanted to be as close to him as possible. That was understandable, although Bucky hoped he wouldn’t have to find someplace else in the mornings, if it also meant all the whispering and comments started up again.

Bigger crowd aside, Bucky was prepared this time.

“Hey Linda,” he said, holding his card out. “My usual coffee order, and one of your ham and cheese croissants, and whatever he’s having.”

“ _Bucky,_ ” Steve growled from behind him.

“And if he refuses to order anything, just double mine and give him that,” Bucky refused to back down.

“You got it, Bucky,” Linda beamed, taking his card.

“Morning, Steve,” Bucky turned around for the first time to find him standing there. 

“You don’t have to buy me breakfast, Bucky,” Steve said.

“Funny, I’ve been saying the same thing for the past three days. Now what do you want?”

“Bucky,” Steve said again. Bucky just arched an eyebrow at him. Steve sighed. “Fine. Large pumpkin spice latte and two of those same sandwiches.”

“Coming right up,” Linda swiped Bucky’s card before handing it back to him.

“Fan of the sweet stuff, huh?” Bucky asked as he put it back in his pocket.

“I like a bit of sweet,” Steve nodded before glancing at Bucky. “But I also really like spicy too.” If it had been anyone else, Bucky would have thought they were flirting with him. But this was Steve, and Steve was the _Alpha_. He probably had plenty of offers, all the time, and a long list of people more than willing to share his bed. Werewolves were known for having a very heathy sex drive and had no problems with polyamorous relationships. Unless they were mated. They were fiercely possessive and protective when it came to their mates, and _extremely_ monogamous once bonded. Bucky didn’t think Steve was mated, or at least he hadn’t heard as much, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t currently in a relationship, or several.

Bucky had nothing against polyamory, and he sure as hell had some wild times in his early to mid-twenties, but he was looking for something different now, a single person to settle down and build a life with.

Besides, Steve couldn’t possibly be interested in him. Bucky knew he was good looking, with his clear skin, shoulder length hair, and pale blue eyes he’d gotten complimented on in the past. He could even admit he had a pretty nice body, solid and lean, if one didn’t count his metal arm. But he was certainly no Steve. And while his psychologist helped him rebuild his confidence during his recovery, he knew his ego wasn’t strong enough to withstand having to compete with anyone else for Steve’s attention.

The thought bothered him, but it was what it was, and life had long ago taught Bucky how to accept reality.

“I really liked the pear,” Steve said, pulling Bucky from his thoughts. When Bucky looked up, Steve was leaning in close, scanning Bucky’s face, his expression puzzled. He was also holding their orders.

“Good, I’m glad.” Bucky took his coffee and sandwich from Steve’s hand, and started walking to the door, which Steve again opened for him.

“Are you alright?” Steve asked once they were outside.

Bucky could have just said he was fine. But werewolves hated it when you lied to them, since they could always smell it when you did. Gabe explained it to him once, early in their friendship. Their heightened sense of smell almost always let them know what you were feeling, but not why. Were you happy because of a phone call, a funny joke someone told you, or because it was a nice day? If you were mad, was it at them or because your boss was being a dick? Their sensitive noses provided them with data, but no context. It was why verbal consent was also extremely important to them, and why a werewolf was supposed to double and triple-check with a potential lover before any sexual encounter and not simply assume. Just because someone was aroused did not mean they wanted to be approached. You could have just read a very sexy scene in a book or been fantasizing about your favorite celebrity. So unless you were very direct, expressing your desire clearly, a werewolf wouldn’t make the first move. In fact, according to Gabe, they learned to ignore it from a very young age. A teenage boy just going through puberty had no control over that part of his body. Or it could just be morning wood. It happened, and you weren’t supposed to point it out or embarrass somebody for it.

That’s why lies bothered them, even the little white ones humans told all the time, when they were trying to be kind; _No, your hair looks great_ or _I really like that color on you_. It confused them, since they knew you weren’t telling the truth but could not parse why. Gabe encouraged Bucky to always be honest with him, and to simply verbalize it when he didn’t want to talk about something, as that would explain his scent but also let Gabe know he wanted privacy.

So Bucky would have to choose his next words to Steve with care.

“Just thought of something, that’s all,” was what he decided on.

“Anything you want to talk about?” Steve asked, just like the werewolf he was.

“No,” Bucky shook his head.

“Alright,” Steve accepted his answer, backing off. “But I hope you know you can talk to me if something’s bothering you, anytime. I’ll always listen to you and try to help. _Always._ ”

“’Cos you’re the _Alpha_ ,” Bucky said.

“No, that’s not –“

“Anyway, this is me.” Bucky was glad they were already at the hospital. He didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

“Oh, yeah, right,” Steve paused mid-step. “But I mean it Bucky, if there’s ever anything you need or want to talk about, I’m here for you, and I’d be more than happy to help.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said. “Have a good one, Steve. Enjoy your breakfast.”

“I will,” Steve smiled, a small, tremulous thing. “You too.”

Bucky nodded, waved and then walked away.

***

_Percolicious_ was even more crowded, and the line longer the next morning when Bucky arrived. Bucky was starting to wonder if he was going to have to get there earlier if he wanted to get to work on time.

Bucky distracted himself by texting Gabe and Jimmie while he waited, laughing at Jimmie’s latest meme barrage, but he still felt it, that tingle on the back of his neck, letting him know someone, a specific someone, was behind him.

“No Steve,” he said, immediately handing his card to Linda.

“Aw, c’mon Bucky,” Steve whined.

“No,” Bucky shook his head before glancing at Linda. “Same as yesterday.”

“For the both of you?” she asked with a smile.

“Yep, unless this one wants something different.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder.

“Bucky.”

“How was your morning, Steve?” Bucky took his card back and stepped to the side.

“It would be better if someone stopped buying me breakfast,” Steve grumbled.

“You gotta problem with breakfast, Steve?”

“No.”

“Then say thank you and take your damned sandwiches,” Bucky ordered, finally turning to face him.

“Thank you,” Steve said, and then he smiled. It was a small, soft smile, shy and sweet, for all Steve was the epitome of the perfect _Alpha_. His bangs were also flopping over his forehead, and Bucky wanted to brush them away, push them behind his ear; those eyes should never be hidden. “Seriously, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Bucky said as Steve reached for their order.

They were making their way toward the door when someone stepped in front of them, smoothly inserting herself between them.

“Good morning, Steve,” she said brightly. She was blonde and thin, a human, and quite beautiful, Bucky supposed, if one was into women. He’d never seen her before, but he instantly recognized her voice.

It was the bacon lady, the one with no inhibitions talking about Bucky when he could hear her, and never kindly. If she was now coming here, that meant Bucky was going to have to find someplace new to get his breakfast. Which was fucked up, because he really did love their sandwiches.

“Hello Lorraine,” Steve obviously knew her, which made sense, since he was Lehigh’s _Alpha_.

“I’m so glad I caught you,” she pressed, shifting so Steve was facing her and her back was to Bucky. But she did glance at him over her shoulder with a tiny smile, that was not small and soft, but knowing and smug. “If you’ll excuse us, Mr…” she trailed off.

“Barnes,” Bucky said.

“Right, Barnes,” she nodded curtly, dismissing him. “But there’s something me and Steve have been working on for quite some time, and we need to talk about it. _Privately._ ” As she spoke, she reached out to place her hand on Steve’s upper arm, a very familiar gesture from a human, especially toward an _Alpha_. “I’m sure you understand.”

Bucky did. And he supposed he had just met one of the people Steve spent his free time with.

“Whatever it is, it can wait, Lorraine,” Steve said.

“But Steve, I know how important this is to you, to the _both of us,_ ” she insisted.

“Of course,” Bucky said, taking a step back.

“Bucky –“ Steve said, shifting forward, toward him, which actually brought him closer to Lorraine.

“Don’t worry about it,” Bucky assured him with a small smile, knowing everyone’s eyes were on them from the sudden hush. He hated that feeling. It was time for him to leave. “Enjoy your breakfast. Have a good one, OK?”

“Bucky!” Steve called after him.

Bucky ignored him, turned and left, without looking back.

He was definitely going to have to find someplace else for his morning coffee and breakfast. But fuck it if he really wasn’t going to miss those sandwiches.

***

Two days later and Bucky was still upset about _Percolicious_. Granted, their coffee wasn’t as good as _The Beanie Bean’s_ , but he really did love those damned sandwiches. And after Friday, he had no intentions of going back. He just had to find someplace else.

That was fine; he’d always been resourceful, life had forced him to learn to be in order to survive. He just needed to find the right resource. And other than his lack of a morning coffee place, things were actually going pretty well lately. In spite of having a new sponsor, Sam, who was much more involved than his previous one, Peter was still showing up on his balcony several nights a week, for talks, video games and take out. Bucky was glad for him, he really was, but he could admit, at least to himself, he worried they’d see less of each other once he got his shifting under control. But it hadn’t happened yet and Bucky wasn’t going to complain.

It seemed he also made a new friend as well. Clint joined him in the park every day for lunch now, weather permitting, always leaning against his shoulder and mumbling around a mouthful of whatever he was eating. Bucky spent at least fifty percent of the time smacking his hand away from his own food.

He was a bit of a goofball, but a friendly one, and in spite of his outward appearance, observant, smart and funny, and Bucky discovered they had quite a bit in common. They were both Batman fans, and spent one lunch debating the merits of _The Dark Knight_ versus _Arkham Asylum,_ then discussed _The Sandman_ series the following day. When Bucky mentioned he just downloaded the latest _Final Fantasy_ and was looking forward to starting it that night, Clint asked if he could come over and play it with him. Bucky told him it was fine, and they agreed on a time, and that Bucky would order pizza from _Valducci’s_ if Clint agreed to chip in.

When Peter inevitably showed up on his balcony with his usual _tap-tap-tap_ , he ended up kicking _both_ of their asses at it and laughing. _The brat._

But all positive changes aside, he still didn’t have a good coffee place, and it was bugging him. He was mulling it over on Sunday on his way to Wanda’s flower-shop, intending to buy several more plants, since they really did make his apartment smell nice, when he stumbled across the solution.

In all her naked glory.

“Excuse me, Miss Beth,” he said with a courteous nod of his head, standing not directly in front of her, but slightly to the side.

“Yes?” she paused her _(naked)_ strolling, head held high. Nakedness and wrinkles _(so many wrinkles)_ aside, her dark eyes were alight with a keen intelligence, her back straight.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” Bucky made sure to keep his tone respectful. He’d been raised to treat all his elders with respect, but especially an elder werewolf. Werewolves lived longer than humans, unless a human was bonded to one, but it was rare to see one of her age, even now. It meant she somehow managed to survive during a time when it had still been legal to shoot werewolves in the street, for no other reason than they were a were. For her to have lived this long took cunning and an unbelievable amount of strength, and she deserved all the respect he could possibly give. “But I’m new in town, and I was wondering if I could ask your opinion on something.”

“And you are?” she asked.

“James Barnes,” he introduced himself. “But most people call me Bucky.”

“Bucky?” she repeated. “Arnold’s nephew?”

“Yes,” Bucky couldn’t help his smile. “He was my great uncle. You knew him?”

“I did,” she nodded. “We played cards together while he was here, and he spoke of you quite often, rather fondly too.”

“That’s,” Bucky closed his eyes. “That’s really nice to know.”

“I was very sorry when he passed. And for your loss,” she tilted her head at him.

“Thank you.”

“And your question?” she prodded when Bucky didn’t say anything else.

“Right,” Bucky nodded. “Anyway, since I’m new here, I’m trying to get the lay of the land. And I was wondering if you could tell me where I could get the best cup of coffee.”

“You should have come to me sooner then, instead of wasting all your time at one of those newer places,” she waved an imperious hand in the air. “It’s _Drippity Drip._ ” Bucky couldn’t help the way his eyebrow twitched. And of course she noticed. “Silly name aside, they make the best damn coffee in all of Lehigh. In all of New York, if we’re being honest. They hand drip every single cup they make.”

“Really?” That definitely sounded promising.

“That’s why they’re not as popular. It takes too long, and you young ones usually don’t have the patience to wait.”

“I’d wait a hell of a long time for a good cup of coffee,” Bucky said. “Do they do breakfast as well?”

“They make the best pain au chocolat this side of the Atlantic,” she informed him, saying the words in a perfect French accent.

“Do they make a brasille?” Bucky could only dare to hope.

“Even better than they do in Calvados,” was her answer.

“And where is this place?” he asked.

“Two blocks on the opposite side of the hospital, on Weston Street.”

“Thank you,” he nodded at her. Remembering her pronunciation, he added in French, “You’ve been a tremendous help and I’m sorry for taking up your time. To make up for it, is there anywhere I could escort you?”

“You don’t have to do that,” she responded in kind, but her eyes were now glowing.

“It would be my pleasure.” He shifted so he was on her right side, closer to the street, and held out his left arm in offering. Great Uncle Arnie had taught him how to be a gentleman after all.

“Then it would be my pleasure to walk you there myself,” she draped her arm over his. “We can share a cup of coffee, and you can tell me all about yourself. I’ve heard a lot about you, and I know you’re the new nurse, but I’ve always liked to get my information directly from the source.”

“Gladly,” Bucky agreed, allowing her to set the pace as she led him across town and toward what Bucky hoped would be the best cup of coffee he’d had in a long time.

***

It was.

It may have taken longer to brew, and was definitely more expensive, but once Bucky took his first sip of that liquid gold, he knew he’d never go anyplace else. Rich, warm, thick and strong, it was the cup of coffee other cups of coffee aspired to be, and he nearly purred as it melted on his tongue.

Miss Beth laughed at his reaction, sipping from her own cup as Bucky sunk even further into his chair. “Told you.”

“You most certainly did.”

“Now tell me about yourself,” she said. “Your French is absolutely lovely, but do you speak any other languages?”

It ended up being a very enjoyable afternoon. And _Drippity Drip_ was a nice place. Small and out of the way, it had plenty of comfortable chairs with lots of interesting looking nooks and crannies, filled with photos and knick-knacks. It wasn’t as crowded either, its clientele mostly older weres, who were also naked _(so much nakedness. And wrinkles. There were the wrinkles too)_ , and Bucky knew he’d be coming back. He wasn’t going to sit in any of the chairs _(ever!)_ , nor was he going to take off his own clothes, no matter how hard Miss Beth tried to insist –

_“You humans and your modesty,” she scoffed at him. “Let your bits feel the breeze. It’s good for them.”_

– but he was definitely coming back

The company was pretty nice too, nakedness aside, _(so much nakedness)_ , and he spent the following two hours in a very engaging conversation, which ended with an invitation to Miss Beth’s Pack’s weekly card game, which he readily accepted before offering to walk her home, the both of them with smiles on their faces.

The coffee was even better on Monday morning, when he desperately needed it, since there had a been a wolf howling not too far from his apartment all night long (even Bucky’s ear plugs hadn’t helped). Along with the pain aux chocolat, and on Tuesday, when he tried the oeufs cocotte. Even better, it was quiet, no one whispering about him, which more than made up for setting his alarm fifteen minutes earlier.

At least it was until Wednesday when….

“ _Bucky._ ”

Dammit. He was _not_ giving up this coffee.

“Hey Steve.” When he turned, Steve was standing there, looking bereft of all things.

“You stopped coming to _Percolicious,_ ” he said, which caused Namor, the owner and barista brewing Bucky’s expresso, to snort dismissively, as well as Logan, another of the older regulars, to grunt as he rustled his newspaper. He was actually reading a newspaper, but at least he was wearing pants. Pants and nothing else, but at least he was wearing something.

Bucky was still never going to sit in any of the seats. _(Ever.)_

“The coffee’s better here,” Bucky said.

“It is,” Steve immediately agreed. “Peggy used to bring me here, it was her favorite place. I would’ve suggested it myself, but I didn’t think you’d want to go so far out of your way before work.”

“Coffee this good is worth anything, Steve, anything. Namor is a master,” Bucky stated.

“Damn straight,” Namor muttered. 

“Oh, well,” Steve blinked. “Then I’m glad you like it.”

“What are you doing here?” Bucky asked.

“Oh, me?” Steve scratched the back of his neck. “I was just passing by and I saw you through the window, and since I hadn’t seen you since Friday I wanted to say good morning.”

From behind his paper, Logan made a noise that sounded suspiciously like _bullshit_ before turning a page. Bucky thought it a bit strange too, since if it was out of his way, then it would also be out of Steve’s. But, well, Steve had stopped by, so he might as well say something.

“Good morning then,” he nodded.

“Good morning,” Steve said, but he still looked hesitant. “Listen, Bucky, about Friday…”

“What about it?” Bucky asked.

“Lorraine, she was –“

“It’s fine,” Bucky waved him off, turning back around. Steve didn’t owe Bucky any explanations.

“No, it’s not, it wasn’t,” Steve continued.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Lorraine was very rude to you,” Steve pressed. “I’ve had issues with her in the past not respecting boundaries, and I’ve talked to her about it before, as well as on Friday, but she was still unbelievably rude, and you left before I had a chance to explain.”

Bucky stared at him, studying his behavior and taking note of Steve’s expression, weighing his words. Werewolves didn’t lie and Steve sounded sincere, and Bucky hadn’t thought Steve had done anything wrong. Still, it was nice of him to go out of his way to let Bucky know.

“She wants to fuck the _Alpha,_ huh?” he concluded.

“Does she ever,” Logan mumbled, flicking another page.

“She does,” Steve sighed. “And I have no interest in her like that, never have. And…I just wanted you to know that.”

“OK,” Bucky said, although he didn’t understand why Steve thought that should matter. “Thanks, I guess?”

“You’re welcome,” Steve nodded, then glanced around before focusing back on Bucky. “And, uh, how was your weekend?”

“Good. Bought a coupla new plants, found a great coffee place,” Bucky gestured around him. “Yours?”

“Not so good, but the week’s definitely looking better now,” he said.

“That’s too bad. Do you want to talk about it?” Bucky offered.

“What?” Steve blinked at him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bucky repeated. “You said I could always come to you if something was bothering me. I just wanted you to know it’s the same for you. We don’t know each very well, but if you ever need to talk, I’d be more than willing to listen.”

“Would you really?” Steve asked.

“Oh god, this is so painful,” Logan flipped another page.

“Of course,” Bucky ignored Logan.

“Thank you,” Steve finally smiled. It was such a beautiful smile too. Almost as good as Namor’s coffee.

“So, so painful.”

“Anyway, I was wondering,” Steve began.

“Here’s your expresso, Bucky,” Namor cut him off, holding out his cup of liquid nirvana.

“You’re a sadist, Namor,” Logan grunted, turning yet another page.

“As if you’re not,” Namor sniffed. “And we all do what we must.”

“Thanks, Namor,” Bucky took his expresso, deciding to ignore everything else, hoping it wouldn’t get weird. He really, _really_ loved the coffee here. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Oh god,” Logan groaned. Bucky ignored him too.

“Anyway,” Bucky said, looking for Steve, who was already by the door, holding it open.

“It’s like watching a bear take on a kitten, and the kitten’s winning,” Logan groused as Bucky walked by.

“But who is the bear and who is the kitten?” Bucky heard Namor say as he stepped outside.

OK, so it was going to get weird, wasn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wherever you are in the world, whether you celebrate it or not, Happy St. Patrick's day from our two favorite boys. 


End file.
